I Didn't Know I was Pregnant: Hetalia
by jojoandpicnic97
Summary: Title says all. Stories of not knowing of pregnancy, mpreg, based off the show. "How can a man not know he is pregnant? Here is a true story of a man who went into labor without even knowing he was pregnant." Full of Hetalia pairings. DISCONTINUED
1. Episode 1: GerIta

I Didn't Know I was Pregnant: GerIta

"Ve~, Doitsu, must you go," Italy asked his lover. He looked up at Germany with the puppy dog eyes that no one could resist.

Looking away from that face, Germany answered, "Ja, Italy. I have to go."

Pouting, Feliciano complained, "B-But it's just one business trip you wouldn't attend! Please!" Turning away and saying good-bye, Ludwig left, regretting every step he took away from his lover.

The Italian sat on his couch, arms crossed, and wishing very much that Ludwig didn't need to go to that meeting with his boss. While he was sulking, a knock came at the door. Lovino walked in and saw his brother sitting glumly. "Be happy, fratello, the potato bastard is gone," he said cheerfully.'

Looking up at Lovino, Feliciano answered, "Don't call him that, ve." With that, North Italy stood up and walked to his room, grumbling about back pain. Lovino didn't press his brother further.

Waking up the next morning was trouble for Feli. His back really hurt. "Ow." Sighing, he thought, _Maybe a nice warm bath will take the pain away. _Slowly, Italy got up and turned on the bath tub to fill it with hot water. _Ah, yes, this will definitely make me feel better, ve~. _

When the tub was filled, Feli slowly sat down in it and started soaking it up. But his back still hurt. Of course, he started to panic when he got an odd sensation to push. _Push what, _Feli wondered. Cautiously, he reached between his legs - he did not like what he felt. Something - and he wasn't sure what - was coming out.

Taking a deep breath, Italy stared yelling for his fratello. "Romano! Romano! L-Lovino! Lovi! Roma! RO-MA-NO!" _Why is this hurting, _he thought desperately, _What am I pushing out? _

A flustered, half-dressed Italian ran in asking what the hell was up. When Veneziano told out in monstrous sobs his story, South Italy's response was, "Push out whatever the hell it is!" He paused. "And I'll call an ambulance!"

Leaving more a few seconds, Lovino rushed back in, but his brother's worry and pain had increased. Before the South Italian had time to call nine-one-one, his brother had competed his pushing. From the water, Feliciano brought out a wet, red, screaming … baby? _What the hell is going on, _Lovino asked himself.

Instead of calling the hospital, Romano called the "special" doctor - the doctor that was specifically for the countries. "Hello," the doctor said.

"M-My brother, Italy, h-he just… gave birth? I don't really know! B-But there's a kid, screaming and crying with an umbilical cord connected to Feli and it's not helping that Feli's also crying. Dio, what the hell is happening?"

The doctor was silent. "Calm down, sir. You say Italy gave birth. North Italy, correct?"

"Yes."

"The child appears healthy, breathing correctly?"

"Yes."

"Then don't worry." The doctor hung up on him.

"Ch-Che cazzo era?" Romano turned his head back to his brother. "J-Just calm down, Feli. You're gonna be okay. Fidati di me, ti andrà bene, va tutto bene." Italy shook his head, understanding, and stopped crying, along with the child. Lovino left to go grab scissors. Cautiously, the Italian cut the cord and put the placenta into a plastic bag that would definitely be thrown away. The brother's washed the child - the blushed when they realized it was a girl - and wrapped her tight in a blanket. Romano held her while Feliciano dried himself off and got dressed.

"Ve~, I need to call Luddy." That was his first priority, to tell Ludwig. _Was I seriously carrying her around for nine months without knowing? Can countries even get pregnant, ve? _For the second time, Italy started crying. This was so not happening. There was no way he had just given birth to a child - his and Germany's, nonetheless. And there was no possible way Lovino was okay with any of this. _Wait… why is fratello so calm? _The fact started to scare Veneziano.

"I'll call the potato bastard," Romano volunteered. Feli sighed. _Let's see how this will end. _And then another thought popped up. _What will we name her? Oh! We'll name her after pasta, of course. Um… I wonder if Luddy will like the name Angel Charlotte? I like that name. Angel - just like angel hair pasta - Charlotte - a nice German name - Beilschmidt. Yes, I like that very much, ve. _

That was when Italy heard a shout from Romano's cell phone. The Italian snapped the phone shut and announced, "He'll be here in a few hours."

Ludwig showed up on his own doorstep a couple of hours after he got a phone call from Lovino about Feliciano giving birth to a baby girl. Walking in, he heard crying. Turning the corner, he saw an infant. Picking up the child, he knew he was instantly wrapped around her fingers. "Is this really real," Germany whispered. The brothers' nodded. "She's beautiful." Again, the Italys' nodded. "What have you named her?"

"Ve, Luddy? Can we name her Angel? Angel Charlotte Beilschmidt? Please?" Ludwig nodded his head numbly and agreed it was a gorgeous name.

A new chapter in their lives started with Angel.

**A/N: Ended dumbly, I know. But I got this idea one day while watching the show. It's an awesome idea, right? Imma make more pairings from other experiences from the show. :)**


	2. Episode 2: PruCan

I Didn't Know I was Pregnant: PruCan

Canada, for some odd reason, was feeling really faint. Assuming that he needed sleep, he told the world that he would be heading home - not that they noticed or cared. He would tell Prussia (his boyfriend) later, there just wasn't anytime to find him inside the building. The Canadian felt really, really tired.

Though his departure wasn't left unseen by America. _I __wonder __where __Mattie __is __going. _Alfred didn't have time to ponder this because England threw a puck-hard scone at him.

On the car ride to the airport, Canada found himself drifting off - until he finally fainted. _I __shouldn__'__t __have __trusted __myself __to __drive, eh. _The car swerved, hitting an innocent sakura treat the side of the road. Needless to say, a passerby called an ambulance for the invisible nation.

_Please, Lord, let me live another day._

X

The doctor for the countries was not happy. Being woken up at three AM in the morning was not good; being forced to go to Japan was not good; being rudely pushed into a room to see a patient was not good. In there, of course, was a nation with a bunch of unknowing doctors. But was that country again? The doctor couldn't remember his name, but concluded it was America's brother. "Get out," the doctor yawned. Instantly, the other doctors and nurses left.

Going over to What's-His-Name, the doctor noted that one of the doctors had taken his blood pressure… it was low.

After observing Whatever-The-Hell-His-Name-Is, the doctor concluded this _male_nation needed a C-section to save the nation's life, and his child's. Low blood pressure plus pregnancy equals a no-go.

The doctor giggled at the fact that a _male_nation had gotten pregnant. It was just freaking hilarious! Who knew nations could get pregnant? Well, that was something to add to the drawing board. Now, how was he going to breast feed? The doctor laughed out loud. _I__'__ll __give __him __the __address __to __the __nearest __milk-bank__… __but __I__'__ll __let __him __wonder __how __he__'__ll __breast __feed __first. __Just __to __laugh._

X

Matthew woke up wondering just where in the world he was. _Okay, _he thought, _I __was __on __my __way __home __from __a __world __meeting__ '__cause __I __wasn__'__t __feeling __good, __eh. __And __then__…__. _Nothing. Blackness. Now, of course, it was all white. A hospital? Maybe.

A doctor walked in - _Yes, __it__'__s __a__hospital, __but __why __am __I __here? _- at the moment. The doctor noticed that Canada was staring. "Oh, goodie, you're awake," the doctor exclaimed happily, jumping up and down while clapping their hands. "Wanna see your kid… what's your name again?"

"Canada," he answered, and then, "What kid, eh?"

The doctor dead-panned, "You didn't know you were pregnant?" A look of horror crossed the Canadian's face. "I'll take that as a no, then. I'll go get him - now don't give me that face, you're a mother now, be happy!"

"I'm a man, eh!" _What __in __the __world __is __going __on, _Matthew wondered, really, truly, honestly, seriously confused. _Can __nations __even __get __pregnant? __And __is __the __baby __a __country__i tself? __Where __is __Gilbert?_

The doctor walked in with a blue bundle in their arms. "Here he is," the doctor said, handing off the blankets. "He was born perfectly healthy, so no need to worry."

Canada looked at - apparently - his son. _Merda, _he cussed, _what __am __I __going __to __do? __I__can__'__t __give __up __the __little __guy__…__. _"Can you call Prussia for me, please, eh?" The doctor nodded and left the room.

X

Gilbert was waiting for his husband to get home so he could show him that Wilhelm could spin the little wheel on his favorite toy now. Matthew would be so proud! Wilhelm had only just figured out that he could use his voice whenever he wanted. Sometimes, it felt like he was growing up too fast - Gilbert could still clearly remember the day he was born.

_Prussia got a mysterious call from the doctor telling him to go to hospital that instant. Being the person he was, he yelled everything the doctor was saying out loud to the world. Needless to say, every country who had attended the meeting ended up at the nearest hospital to see Canada. Only Gilbert was allowed in, though._

"_Holy hell," the Prussian whispered as he learned that he was a father. He stared down at his son, who had a very, very light complex, a little tuft of platinum-blonde hair, and those beautiful violet eyes that Prussia had always loved. It was hard not to love the child._

_Getting a very awesome feeling, Prussia ran out the room and into the waiting room and yelled, "Ich, der genial Preußen, bin ein Vater! Ein Vater! Rufen Sie mich an Vatti Gilbert von nun an." They all looked at him like he was crazy, not that he minded. He was smiling like a big idiot, and he had no care in the whole damn hospital. He was a Vatti now, and Canada was his child's Mutti. Nothing could get better._

_By the end of the day, Wilhelm Jaq Beilshmidt had been welcomed by every nation._

_And then, you know, they got hitched._

Gilbert heard the door open and close. "Hey, Mattie!"

**A/N: Here's the PruCan! Yes, I named their kid after the mouse in Cinderella, don't blame me - Cinderella is a cool princess. Heh heh, get it? Cool? Cuz she where's blue? Yeah, bad joke.**

**Translations: The German means something like "I, the awesome Prussia, am a father! A father! You can just call me Father Gilbert from now on." And then Mutti=Mother. Um... I'm not gonna translate the Italian from last chapter though... And this was done by Google Translate, and you know how reliable that is... **

**BTW, these aren't realated at all, except for the doctor. Is the doctor male or female? Who knows? So now that you now that... How does the breast feeding work in all these m-pregs? And milk-banks are real for those women that don't really have a good supply, if you know what I mean. Haha, sorry. :)**


	3. Episode 3: RoChu

I Didn't Know I was Pregnant: RoChu

**How can a man not know he was pregnant? With no cravings, no weight gain, and no symptoms. This is a true story of a man going into labor with not even knowing he was pregnant.**

"Trick or treat!" China scrambled to get the door before the kids became impatient. Grabbing the candy bowl, he opened the door and gave the kids their free-candy that he had bought with his hard-earned money. _Ha, __hard __earned, __aru! __As __if! __All __I __have __to __do, __aru, __is __fight __with __the __idiots._

Speaking of those idiots, China checked the time and learned that he and Russia needed to leave for the party America was throwing. "Ivan, aru! We need to leave!" Looking in the mirror one last time at his pirate costume - Yao had laughed at the fact that he had never been a pirate before - before setting the candy bowl out the door with a note saying 'please take one, aru' even though they all knew that the kids would take the bowl. With that, he was out the door and Russia was following.

"Must we go, мой подсолнечника," Russia asked, not particularly keen on going. Yao sighed and nodded 'yes.' It was a short drive to America's house.

Sometime later, Yao was happily dancing with Ivan in the middle of the dance floor. Nothing could get better… until he got a sharp pain in his stomach. Then another, and another, until it got to the point where he couldn't stand it anymore. "Ivan," China got out breathlessly, "take me to the hospital." Another shock of pain sent the Chinese man crouched to the ground. Reacting instantly to his husband's pain, Russia reached down and picked up Yao bridal style and started running for the car.

"Yo, Russia!" America yelled over the music. "What's up?" Ivan didn't pause to explain: his подсолнечника wasn't all right.

China's mind was racing a mile a minute. _What__'__s __going __on, __aru? __Am __I __dying? __Is __there __something __wrong __back __home, __aru? __Ow, __Sh__én__… __Hurts __like __hell, __aru._

It only took a while to get to the nearest ER room, but the suck- ish part was waiting for a doctor (read: _the_ doctor). China tried evening out his breath while Russia rubbed small circles on his back. _Where __is __that __doctor, _the Russian wondered. _When __they __get __here, __I__'__ll __have __a __talk __with __them __about __quickness, __da? _Subconsciously, Russia started kol- ing, a dark purple aura forming around his head. _Da, __a __talk __with __my __pipe. _This doctor would pay for elongating his dear husband's pain.

Finally, _finally, _the doctor showed up. They seemed happy, but that was just the surface. The doctor took one look at China and instantly knew what was wrong with him - dully, the doctor noted that they felt like they had done this three times earlier, but had no recollection of actually doing so. A dream maybe? Quickly, the doctor herded China and Russia into the maternity wing. "You're in labor, Mr. China," the doctor explained.

"What, aru? Are you crazy?" Yao looked at the doctor in absolute terror. "I can't have a baby, aru! I'm a man! Not a woman, aru!"

"Regardless of that fact," the doctor stated, "you're having a baby, so think quick and name it."

* * *

><p>It turned out to be a girl; and Russia loved her to the end of his heart, like he did her mother. She may have been a surprise, but there was nothing stopping him from treating her like the Princess Anastasia. Xinyu Лилия Braginski. It was one of the most beautiful sounds in the entire world - right next to Yao Braginski and China. A beautiful name for a beautiful girl. How could Ivan not love her dearly? That day, Xinyu had become half of his world - half her, half Yao. The largest nation didn't even count himself in his life - those two were his life. And that was the way he liked it.<p>

She was eleven now, and as cute as ever. Her long black hair was flowing in the wind and her almond shaped amethyst eyes were sparkling in the sunlight. Her skin was the color of her mother's and her nose was like her father's. Anyone could easily tell that she was their child, and no one could take her away from them or they would meet Russia's pipe.

But most importantly, Xinyu loved her parents.

**A/N: I have decided to start everyone from now on with the "How can a man not know he's pregnant?" line, just because that's how they start the show. :) I have a friend named Xinyu, and I like the name, so... She's actually from China, it's cool (when I first met her, the only English she could speak was "hi"). The Russian name is pronounced LEE-lee-ah. So, if you are wondering, my line up is: next: USUK, then PolLiet, then RussAme (I had to write Prucan before all that cuz it's my OTP). Please be patient! And if you have a pairing you would like me to write, please submit!**

**Translations: The Russian means "my sunflower" and that bit of Chinese is the equivelent of "God."**


	4. Episode 4: USUK

I Didn't Know I was Pregnant: USUK

**How can a man not know he was pregnant? With no cravings, no weight gain, and no symptoms. This is a true story of a man going into labor with not even knowing he was pregnant.**

Ever since this morning, the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland - otherwise known as just plain England - had these strange pains in his stomach. Thinking nothing of it, he went on his daily life: cooking (cough, horribly, cough), reading, sewing, sipping tea, and work.

Even though England was not feeling very well, he had work to attend to. Upon arriving, his boyfriend America took notice right away. And that would be why he was laying down in a bunch of hay next to Poland's horse stable right now. But the pain still did not go. Arthur clutched his stomach trying to get the pain away. _Bloody __hell, _he thought, _why __in __the __Devil__'__s __name __can__'__t __I __go __to __sleep __and __escape? _He wanted to fall asleep, to leave the pain behind, but it was not coming.

"Artie, you okay," Alfred asked timidly. When had he got there?

_Might __as __well __blame __it __on __him. _"No. I hate you. Go awa- ouch… crap." Suddenly, he felt very wet. Had he just peed his pants? But… he didn't remember feeling the urge to go. Then it hit again. "Bloody DAMN!"

"Arthur? Take your pants off, please?"

The Briton glared at the American. "I am in no mood to do that, smarmy wanker." Sighing and praying for his life at the same time, Alfred grabbed his lover's pants and ripped them off - taking the underwear, too. "You bastar - OW, DAMNIT." The hurt was coming closer and closer together and, in all honesty, Arthur felt like he had to take a dump. His lover pulled his legs apart and gasped.

When America got around speaking again, he asked with a shaky voice, "England, mind pushing for me?"

England barely registered that America was being serious because he used his country name, but did as told for that feeling of needing to. But, damn, whatever it was, it hurt. Hot damn, it hurt like a bloody mother who wouldn't take any crap. Make it stop, please, Lord, make it end. Let me die now.

"Keep pushing, Iggy," the American ordered, "Trust my when I say it's almost over and I feel like throwing up my last meal."

Arthur did NOT need the mental image of his boyfriend throwing up, but he pushed more anyways. Anything to make the damn pain stop.

In two minutes, England felt something leave him… something important, and then, out of no where, he heard a babe crying….

"Alfred," the Briton asked, exhausted. "What is that racket?"

"Our son," he heard America answer before slipping into sleep.

* * *

><p>When he woke up, he heard a: "Oh-honhonhonhon, you two were busy… <em>in <em>_bed._"

"Shut up, frog," England sighed, not really paying attention to what he said, but wanting to go back to sleep, which required absolute silence.

"You didn't deny it~!"

"Deny what?"

"That you and Amerique were busy in the bed… busy enough to create a _child._" France chuckled again while England gave a quizzical look to America who was holding a blue bundle of blankets.

Alfred stared back and pleaded, "Don't freak out." Gently, the American placed the blankets in the Briton's arms.

From the blankets, a newborn stared at Arthur. The babe's eyes were the exact shade of America's and there was blonde tuft sticking off its head. And thick, British-like eyebrows. There was no denying it; _This __is __my __child, _Iggy thought, _Alfred__'__s __child. _Our _child._

"Hey, Iggs?" England snapped his attention back to his boyfriend. "If we are to keep him, he kinda needs a name… if you want to keep him, of course!"

England blinked in shock. "Why wouldn't we keep him?" America smiled.

* * *

><p>Arthur sighed. "Honestly, Elton, you are your father's son."<p>

Elton looked up from his fifth hamburger to see his mother staring at him with loving disdain. "Whaddya mean, dude?" England sighed again and patted his son on the head before he went to clean off the plates. "Seriously, dude, whaddya mean?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing," Iggy said.

That was when the crash came. "Elton Stevie Jones, did you take my Shaq-signed basketball again? And did you PLAY with it?"

Elton looked down at his food and let a little, "May~be, Dad." Not that Alfred could hear it, seeing as he was still fuming.

"You better go to your room before he gets here," Arthur put in helpfully. Elton nodded, not really wanting to see an angry America.

**A/N: M'kay. Here is the USUK. Yes, I named their kid after two awesome music artists (Sir Elton John and Stevie Wonder). Next is PolLiet and then RussAme. So, someone (I forgot who, sorry) requested that Estonia should be a mother... here's the problemo. I have no clue who the daddy should be... And then the Nordic Mayhem... Please, please, please be specific when requesting. I only have Twin Telepethy, not the ability to read minds. Sorry if I came across as rude... So, um, like, yeah.**


	5. Episode 5: LeitPol

I Didn't Know I was Pregnant: PolLiet

**How can a man not know he was pregnant? With no weight gain, no cravings, and no symptoms. This is a true story of a man going into labor without knowing he was ever pregnant.**

"Lenkija, are you feeling alright," Lithuania asked, his voice filled with nervousness.

Poland pursed his lips and replied, "Yeah, I'm totally fine, Liet. I just think I have like a stomach ache."

"Oh. Do you want some Tums, then?" Toris reached for the container before Feliks waved him off. "Alright. A movie then?"

The Polish man's face brightened up. "Like totally! Come over here and cuddle with my, Liet!" Toris blushed, turned on a random movie, and went to cuddle with his husband.

It was not long into the movie that Lithuania kept on fidgeting and rubbing his stomach. "Lenkija, are you sure you're alright?"

Feliks groaned. "I'm like never totally better," he lied through his teeth - literally, he didn't open up his teeth.

"You aren't," Lithuania protested.

Poland sighed. "I'm going to bed, Litwa." Toris sighed.

However, when the Lithuanian was fast asleep, Feliks was not. He was up, suffering silently, trying to not think about the pain. _Cholerny, __why __does __my __stomach __totally __hurt __like __piek__ło? __What__ever __this __like __is? _Poland got up and decided to walk around, maybe that would take the pain away. It only made him feel loaded.

A wave of pain brought him to his knees but he refused to cry out. _Happy __thoughts. __Happy __thoughts. __Ponies, __like __ponies __are __cool. __Dresses, __dresses __are __totally __cool. _Even with like totally awesome thoguhts, relief was not coming.

In all honesty, Poland was surprised he lasted the night. But in the morning, he felt like dying. He was sitting on the couch when his husband came in, looking tired and quizzical. "Lenkija?" He paused to see his husband in pain. "Lenkija? Why didn't you wake me sooner? I'm taking you to the hospital right now." With that, he got Poland to his feet and into their car.

* * *

><p>The doctor felt a strange case of déjà vu and a strong urge to hit some one. The doctor did NOT like being treated so rudely. 'Get up at this time' this, 'get up at that time' that; 'sorry you didn't have enough time' here, 'sorry it was unplanned' there. It was ANNOYING. Why can't countries and nations go to regular doctors and nurses instead of just one? The appointments - well, who are we kidding? There were no appointments, just emergencies. Why did this doctor volunteer for this job? If it didn't pay so much, the doctor would quit in a heartbeat.<p>

It was Poland today. What was wrong? His stomach hurt. The doctor looked at him, hunched over in the hospital robes, and noticed something. The doctor sighed. "You're asking what's wrong, yet neither of you noticed that your child has breeched? Is breeched? That you're in labor?" Then, to their-self, "God, why are all nations idiots?"

Lithuania and Poland stared at the doctor shocked. "OK," Poland started through the pain, "I like know that I like to dress and drag and everything, but I am still a man - totally not a woman, just ask Toris." Said Lithuanian blushed.

"I don't care what you say," the doctor countered, "You're baby is breeched no matter what and I need to perform a damn emergency C-section so I can just say good-bye, go home, and go back to sleep." And as an afterthought: "And save your useless life." With that, the doctor put Feliks under.

* * *

><p>When Feliks came to, he got shocking news. Not only had he gotten pregnant, he had gotten pregnant with <em>twins. <em>Damn, how do you not notice that?

"You're like totally kidding, right," the Polish man had asked. "There's _two_?"

"That's what I said, Lenkija," Lithuania responded. "But if only you saw them. They're beautiful. And we got the best of both - a boy and girl."

"_Fraternal _twins? That means there were two eggs! And, as you already know, is impossible because I'm a MAN." Feliks had trouble getting over the fact that he was had gotten pregnant, gave birth, and, all the while, he still had a penis.

"I know, love, but you must meet them."

When Poland did, he fell in love. Again. With both of them. The girl looked just like Lithuania, but it was obvious her personality was like Poland, and the boy was the opposite; he looked like Poland but acted like Lithuania.

It took some time, fighting over names and what-not, but the twins were eventually named and welcome into the countries, whether they stood politically or not.

* * *

><p>"Like stop it, Wladimir!" Wladimir Peterlis Laurinaitis stared at his sister. He was not doing anything.<p>

"Wladimir, stop annoying your like sister," his mother called. Ausra smiled at this.

"Heh heh, I totally got you in trouble." She smirked at him.

The boy sighed. "Ausra Zyta, stop it or I'll call R-Russia on you." He was bluffing, of course. Russian scared the crap out of his whole family except for Poland.

She giggled. "Like you would, you're totally scared of him. And you're not even gonna say my full name? You usually do when you're like, you know, mad."

He sighed again. "No. I truly wonder how we even share a name. We're p-polar opposites."

Ausra smiled at this. In truth, she loved her brother - loved him, loved had he looked so much like their father, loved how he was always so kind no matter what she did, and she loved annoying him. "Be grateful you have someone who does share your name." Wladimir mocked her before they both started laughing.

The worst thing about being a twin: you're never alone.

The best thing? You're never alone.

**A/N: Um, the Lithuanian is "Poland" and the Polish is "Damn, Hell, and Lithuania." :) And, um, Wladimir is pronounced Vladimir. SO like yeah... Watching this episode, I was like "How can you not know you're pregnant with _twins_?" Cuz my mom could barely get up when she was pregnant with us. And people always ask: "What's the best/worst part about being a twin?" Well, that's our answer up there. Best/Worst part about being a twin: you're never alone. Just so you know... you know, if you ever want a twin.**


	6. Episode 6: RussAme

I Didn't Know I was Pregnant: RussAme

**How can a man not know he was pregnant? With no weight gain, no cravings, and no symptoms. This is a true story of a man going into labor without knowing he was ever pregnant.**

_Okay, __this __is __starting __to __get __annoying, _Alfred thought. This was the fifth - count it, FIFTH - time he had broken up and got back together with his boyfriend Ivan. _Damn __commie, __playing __with __my __heart, _he thought. Why did he even keep going back to Russia anyways? Oh, wait… he loved him. No matter what, America always loved Russia... and it was so not awesome how the relationship never worked out. _Well, __maybe __it __will __this __time, _the American thought optimistically. _Maybe __we__'__ll __stay __together__… __maybe. __It__'__s __been __how __long __since __we __first __got __together? __Nine __months? _Alfred thought that over and concluded that, yes, in fact, the number was correct.

Sighing contently on how he got his love back, America went to go eat some hamburgers at Golden Arches. He loved hamburgers almost as much as he did Ivan. But, for some reason, he had been craving them more often… what was he thinking? He loved hamburgers, why wouldn't he always be craving them? Happily, America stuffed one in his mouth and swallowed it whole. _Too __good __to __chew, _he thought, _I __just __want __it __in __my __stomach. _Another one followed the previous hamburger's fate, then another, and another. Until McDonald's kicked him out for eating all of their food. _Bastards, _Alfred thought bitterly, _All __of __them. __They __can__'__t __kick __me __out. __I__'__m __a __paying __costumer!__Hmph. _Crossing his arms, he walked back to his house. _I __want __more __hamburgers._

Alfred knew that he would have to make his own to solve the problem, but, seeing as he was too lazy, just went home and fell asleep, dreaming on how one day he would own the Mickey D's corporation. That way, they wouldn't be able to throw out a paying costumer who was giving them a bunch of money but draining them of supplies. Totally unfair. _Oh, __maybe __I __should __have __gone __to __California __for __In__'__N__'__Out__… __or __Texas __for __What-a-Burger__… __eh, __too __late. _On he slept until morning.

Where he got an unpleasant surprise. "How do I wet my bed with water," he thought aloud to himself. "Did I, like, excessively drool?" America shook his head to get rid of the disgusting thought. "Sleep walking for a drink? Nah, I don't do that…. Do I? I'm pretty sure I don't." Bending over to take the sheets off the bed, Alfred felt a sharp, stabbing pain go up his back. "Ow." Standing straight, he put his hand on his back. He had thought it helped, until another one came and a string of curses left his mouth. "Maybe I should go to a chiropractor," he muttered. But, knowing the countries, there was only a doctor. Not any specialists on backs, just a regular doctor who could do anything. Alfred decided to call them when he got a few more pains.

"Hello," the doctor asked, obviously irked.

"Ow, damnit," America accidentally voiced. On the other side of the phone, the doctor raised an eyebrow. "Uh, I'm having back pains and stuff, do you kno- hey, I have a question first." He paused to keep in a cry of pain. "Is it normal to wet your bed with water?" And then, as an after thought, "Any ways I can keep the back pain to a minimum? I kinda have a date with Russia tonight."

The doctor sighed. It was America and, if anything, he was an oblivious idiot. Going on regulation, the doctor asked, "Are you pregnant?" Then instantly regretted it. America was a _man_. Of course he couldn't be pregnant… but something made the doctor believe he was.

"Am I what?"

The doctor sighed again. "I'll be over in a while. Be patient." America heard the dial tone.

Another wave of pain had the man crawling back in bed. "Crap. Confined to a bed, what a way to spend the day."

* * *

><p>When the doctor finally arrived - to America, it had seemed like hours - they found the American groaning in pain, hunched over, and sweat dripping on his brow. Strings of colorful curses were being thrown into the air and it looked like Alfred wasn't feeling remorse for saying any of them. "Uh, America, you okay," the doctor asked timidly.<p>

"Do I look 'OKAY', damn it," the American screamed back before growling as another shock wave went through.

The doctor frowned. "Point taken." Still scowling, the doctor walked over to the nation and spread his legs. America asked (or rather shouted) what they were doing, but the doctor gave no answer. But a question of the doctor was answered. "The baby's crowning," the doctor told Alfred - his response was a blank face.

Another contraction went through - and Alfred swore they were getting closer and more painful. "Make the pain stop," America begged. "Ow, damn."

The doctor waved off the begging and continued to tell the American to push. He complied and before both of them knew it, a shrill cry pierced the air. "What is that," Alfred asked, covering his ears. "It's giving me a headache."

Shaking their head in disappointment, the doctor replied, "Get used to it. He's gonna give you many sleepless nights. And this is where I take my leave." With that, the doctor left, placing the newborn boy in America's arms.

With all seriousness, Alfred looked down to his son and told him, "Make sure you hate that doctor as much as I do."

* * *

><p>Илларион Joss Braginski ran into his aunt. On accident, of course, but he was still lucky enough to dodge her knife. "Kekekekeke, oh, hi, Aunt Natalia, how are you today," he asked, cocking his head to the side, making his cowlick bounce.<p>

Belarus frowned. Why did her brother choose that stupid American over her? It was not fair! Nonetheless, she couldn't help but feel pity for her nephew - he had to live with the American. "I am fine, Илларион. How is your father?"

Илларион beamed. "He's fine, so is mat'."

Natalia frowned. "I didn't ask about him." She went on her way, leaving the boy alone.

"Bye, Aunt Natalia," Илларион yelled after her, then, to himself, he snickered: "Kekekekeke, she is so jealous of mat'!" He went on laughing until he saw his father. "Hi, dad!"

Russia looked back at Илларион. He smiled. "Hello, syn."

"I just saw Aunt Natalia. Why does she not like mat' again?" Илларион looked up at his father with puppy dog eyes.

Ivan pushed his son's white hair out of his big blue before answering, "Because I married him instead of her."

The boy smiled. "Kekekekeke," he laughed. "What an idiotic reason!" Russia laughed with him, slung his arm around his son's shoulder, and led him into the conference room where they sat next to America.

"Hi, mat'," Илларион greeted. America smiled back and kissed him on the head before the meeting started.

**A/N: Heheh, hello again. Um, their son's name is pronounced as eellahreeON. THe Russian mat'=mother, syn=son, I just didn't feel like writing it in Russian. :) I also thought their son should have an interesting laugh like kolkolkolkolkol, so I got kekekekeke. Hey, don't you guys just love National Turkey Slaughter Day? I get a week off! Yay! But, then again, Thanksgiving is a feast and I'll get fat... oh, well.**


	7. Episode 7: UKFr

I Didn't Know I was Pregnant: FrUK

**How can a man not know he was pregnant? With no weight gain, no cravings, and no symptoms. This is a true story of a man going into labor without knowing he was ever pregnant.**

"My back hurts, mon cher," France cooed to his boyfriend.

England turned to him and found that Francis was lying on his stomach without a shirt on. "What do you want me to do about it, frog?"

France smiled. "Put the heating pad on it," the Parisian suggested. Arthur sighed but complied.

Just as he finished, his phone started vibrating. Having a quick conversation into it, England turned back to France to tell him the news. "Hungary went into labor." Hungary had gotten pregnant with her husband Austria's child and she had been due any day now. Well, tonight or tomorrow was it (which was good, because for the past nine months, she had been bitching about her pregnancy).

The Frenchman's face brightened up considerably. "That's wonderful! I'm sure their child will be mignon."

England snorted. "And obsessed with music and boy love." France chuckled, quickly stealing a kiss from his boyfriend before his back started to hurt again. "You okay, love?"

"Oui, I'm fine." Rubbing his back, France tried to drift off to sleep. Sleep did not come easy for Francis, though. Instead, he stayed up all night trying to keep quiet. _Merde, _he thought, _Why __does __my __back __hurt __so? __Baiser! __Ow, __ow, __ouch. _The Parisian whimpered, making England stir. It felt like years before sleep came, taking the pain away.

Both countries were awakened by England's cell phone's ring tone - or better know as "The Marshmallow Song". Picking it up, the Briton greeted the person groggily. When he listened to the person, England was instantly awake, shutting his phone, and announcing happily, "It's a boy! Hungary and Austria have a boy! They named him Roderich Edelstein, Junior."

"Good for them," France groaned.

Arthur frowned. "Does your back still hurt?"

Mimicking him, France replied, "'Does your back still hurt'? No shit, Sherlock!" Placing his face back on his pillow, Francis bit back a whimper. _Merde, __it __hurts __so __much!_

"France," Arthur asked, worried. "Are you okay?" Then, as an after thought: "Don't use such an important literary figure in a negative, frog."

"You're mood doesn't make it better, mon ami." A shock of pain sent a cry from Francis' lips. "Baiser." The Parisian bit his lip. _Will __some__one __kill __me __for __loves __sake? __Ow! _Another wave made the Frenchman start tearing up.

England gave his signature scowl and promptly stated, "I'm taking you to the hospital."

* * *

><p>The doctor sighed. Great. Just great. Hungary had thrown her frying pan at the doctor's head because of labor pains, Austria had been playing the piano nonstop (making the doctor officially hate Chopin, Beethoven, and Mozart), and now he had another call from England and France. <em>What <em>_could __ever __be __the __problem __now, _they thought.

When the doctor arrived at the hospital, they followed the sounds of complete and utter misery. It was not that hard. "What's the problem," they asked when they got to the room.

"France's back has been hurting all night, and it's only getting worse," England summarized.

The doctor sighed, looking over Francis. They recognized what was going on - they had been through it for the past twelve hours with Elizabeta, and frankly, the doctor did not want to go through it again. Nonetheless, it was their job description and they had to. "Spread your legs, Mr. France," the doctor ordered.

Smirking, the Parisian said, "Gladly," which earned a smack from his boyfriend. "Ow." And then, when a labor pain ran down his back, "Merde! What's going on?"

The doctor looked up. "Huh?" They paused. "Oh! You were pregnant, and now you're in labor." The doctor smiled brightly. "Isn't that nice? Try to pick a name while you're doing this, 'kay?" Inwardly, the doctor was chuckling darkly.

England blinked. "What?"

"Yeah! Now push, France." France complied, wanting the pain to go away. It wasn't two pushes later did they both hear a baby crying. "Hey, look at that, it's a girl. Have cute girl names picked out?" The doctor clipped the cord, wrapped the child in a blanket, handed her off to her parents, and was out the room in less then five minutes.

"I hate that doctor."

* * *

><p>Roux Hermione Kirkland skipped up and down the halls of her house chanting a spell her father had taught her. Today was a big day. In all of her two years, she would be getting to meet two very important people who were very close to her dad and maman. But who were these two important people? Roux had no clue.<p>

And there it was! The knock on the door that Roux had been waiting for all day. Running to the door, she opened it (even if her father said not to and to wait for him). Standing on the porch, Roux saw two blonde men who could have possibly been twins. One had blue eyes, while the other had violet; one had a Nantucket, while the other had a curly sticking off the top of his head; one had a bomber jacket, the other a gigantic red hoodie. "Who are you," the one wearing the bomber jacket asked.

"I'm Roux," Roux answered proudly. "Who are you?"

"Alfred," he answered, "And this is my brother Matthew."

Roux grinned. "Nice to meet you. Are you the two important people da-"

"Hello, Alfred," England said, cutting his daughter off. "And, um, uh… I'm sorry, lad, what was your name again?"

"Matthew," Matthew answered quietly, looking down with a flushed look.

"Right, sorry," Arthur apologized. "Why don't you two come in?" The brothers nodded, stepping into the house. The group walked to the living room where they were met by France.

"Ah, Alfred, Matthieu, welcome," he greeted. "How have you been, mes chers?"

"Oh, I've been good," Alfred answered. Matthew just nodded his head.

Roux giggled. "You don't talk much, do you," Roux asked Matthew. The man just shook his head.

"Oh, yeah, Iggy, pervert, who's the kid," Alfred asked, pointing to Roux.

England laughed nervously. "Oh, um, her…that's your sister."

Roux gasped. "I have brothers? That's parfaite!" The girl jumped up and down, clapping her hands together, and thinking that nothing could get better.

The two brothers just stood there shocked. "Sis… ter," the Canadian asked uncertainly.

"Oh, oh, maman, are they countries like you?" Roux looked at France, hoping, waiting, wishing… because if these two were politically important, so was she.

France nodded. "Alfred is the United States of America and Matthieu is Canada." Roux had a big, teeth-filled smile on her face as she heard he news.

And then: "She's our sister?" England, France, and Roux looked at America and Canada. "Since when?"

Arthur shrugged. "Two years ago today, why?"

"And you just bothered calling," America shouted.

"You were busy," France said.

America and Canada heaved a sigh, then went over to hug their 'new' sister. "Nice to meet you, Roux," they both said.

She beamed at them. "Nice to meet you, too."

**A/N: Here ya go. I've always thought that the countries hated my doctor... So, translations are: (French) my dear, cute, crap, f**k, perfect. And now, here is my line-up: Next is SuFin, DenNor, Spamano, & RussPruss... I think. It's something like that. I'm also going to use Elizabeta's and Roderich's kid/couple for other things in the series, but you may still request it (they aren't related, after all, just be aware that the kid's name is gonna be Roddy Jr.). So, um, yeah, until next time~**


	8. Episode 8: SuFin

I Didn't Know I was Pregnant: SuFin

**How can a man not know he was pregnant? With no weight gain, no cravings, and no symptoms. This is a true story of a man going into labor without knowing he was ever pregnant.**

Finland pouted. "Are you sure you won't need help, Su-san?"

Sweden patted his wife's head before answering, "W'll be f'ne." Finland continued to pout. "D'n't w'rry. J'st th' gr'c'ry st're." Sweden patted Sealand's head and gave Finland a kiss before heading out.

Tino sighed. Was Berwald positive he didn't need help? Maybe Tino should have sent Peter with him….

"Mom, don't worry," Sealand piped up. "Dad'll be just fine."

Finland sighed again. "Yeah." Suddenly, the Finnish man's emotion changed and he said, "I'll continue making dinner to get my mind off it." Feeling the urge to go, he added, "After I use the restroom." Heading off to the nearest bathroom, he continued to worry about the well being of his husband.

_What __if __he __gets __into __an __accident? __What __if __the __cashier __becomes __afraid __of __him? _Is _a fraid __of __him? __It __happens__…__. __And __what __if __they __don__'__t __have __what __he __wants? __Will __he __go __to __another __store __or __just __not __get __it? __Oh __dear__…__. _Finland decided to not think about it anymore, but to focus on the pain in his stomach. _Ouch. __Do __I __have __a __stomach __flu __or __something? __A __stomach __ache? __Maybe __Su-san __will __get __some __Tums, __hopefully. _The more intense the pain got, the more Finland wished for something to end the hurting. He clutched his stomach, but that didn't help; he was hunched over (still on the toilet), but that still did not help; he grabbed a towel and squeezed the life out of it, but, alas, it didn't help. _Paska, __whatever __it __is, __it __hurts__l ike __helvetti. _"Ow," Tino voiced aloud to no one as something (who the hell knows _what_) finally left his body.

"Mom," Finland heard Sealand shout from the other side of the door, "You okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine, Peter," he answered, getting off the seat to look… not because he _liked _doing things like that - looking at his waste and what-not. He just wanted to see why the thing was connected by an ugly looking cord that was still inside him. It made him scream.

Peter automatically went for the door. "What is it, Mom?"

Getting his breath back, Tino told him to get out. Not wanting to face an angry Finland ('cause, man, angry Tino is scaaarrry), Sealand complied. Finland grabbed the towel he had abandoned, picked up _it_and wrapped it in the towel. "Jumalani, did I just give _birth_," Finland asked aloud, not expecting an answer. He wiped the child's nose and mouth, but when it made no noise, he started to panic. "Oh, please, please cry!"

"Mom," Sealand asked.

"Call Berwald," Tino told him, going back to the child. Cautiously, the Finn stuck a finger down the babe's throat and, just like that, a wail escaped the child's lips. "Thank you, thank you, thank you," Finland breathed, pulling the newborn closer to his chest.

It was not long before Sweden got home. He paused at the door - there was a possibility Finland did not want him in there. "M' w'fe? Wh't's wr'ng?"

Gathering his courage, Finland called back, "Come in." Slowly, Sweden entered the bathroom… and gasped.

"'S th- 's y'rs? M'ne? … Ours?" Not meeting the Swede's gaze, Tino nodded his head. Instantly, arms were wrapped around the Finnish man. "H'w," Berwald asked.

Trying to keep in a sob, Tino answered, "I don't know. All I know is that this is our child… I'm scared, Su-san." He buried his head deeper in Berwald's chest (careful not to harm the baby) and let the first tears fall.

"'T's 'll r'ght, y're g'nn' b' f'ne," Sweden assured, rubbing small circles on his wife's back. "Du är min fru, kommer du att bli bra."

* * *

><p>Ilmarinen Burr Oxenstierna continued to stare at his older brother. Just to see if he would notice anytime soon. He didn't; instead, Ilmarinen continued to stare and think <em>Wow, <em>_Peter __is __really __slow __to __notice __that __he __has __been __noticed. _The boy giggled, making Sealand notice him. "How long have you been staring at me," the teen asked.

"A wh'le," the child answered. "I was wond'ring when you would not'ce." Peter just shook his head and turned back to his game. "Fader and äiti said d'nner will b' ready soon. 'Kay, Pet'r?" Peter nodded his head, understanding but not absorbing. "Tsk, tsk." Ilmarinen got up and moved away from his oh-so-boring brother. There was a chance he could catch the boringness.

Noticing this, Peter paused the game and turned to his little brother. "Hey, Ilmari, wanna know something?" Ilmarinen perked up at this - what didn't he already know that his brother knew? "Mom and Dad didn't want you."

Ilmarinen scowled. "Th't's a lie," the boy stated. "You're ly'ng. Fader and äiti love m' v'ry m'ch." He crossed his arms over his chest for emphasis.

"It's the truth," Peter insisted. "You were a surprise child. They may love you, but they didn't want you." Sealand stuck his tounge out like a child

The boy's scowl grew. "You're ly'ng, Pet'r, I d'n't believe you. You're a li'r."

Sealand snickered. "Fine, don't believe me. But it's true."

That night, when the Oxentiernas were at the table eating dinner, Ilmarinen decided to shove it in Peter's face. "Fader, äiti, d'd you w'nt me? Pet'r says you d'n't." Berwald blinked, taken aback.

Peter's face was priceless when Finland shot him a sharp look. "Of course we want you," Tino said cheerily. "Why wouldn't we? You're our little boy."

Ilmarinen snickered. "T'ld you, Pet'r. You're a li'r."

"Hmph."

**A/N: Sorry, I fail at accents. Translations: Finnish- Paska-Crap, Helvetti-Hell, Jumalani-My God; äiti-mother. Swedish: Du är min fru, kommer du att bli bra- You are my wife, you will be fine, Fader-Father. And if I went through all the accent, it would be long... And I'm sorry it's kinda short... And I'm sorry for any OCC-ness as always... And I don't own anything, did I ever tell you that? Man, I fail in so many ways... Happy National Turkey Slaughter Day, though. :) Please get fat! Wait, um... that came out wrong.**


	9. Episode 9: DenNor

I Didn't Know I was Pregnant: DenNor

**How can a man not know he was pregnant? With no weight gain, no cravings, and no symptoms. This is a true story of a man going into labor without knowing he was ever pregnant.**

Norway glared at his lover. In this instant, he hated the fact that he had been married to him at one point in time. He hated that he was considering marrying him again. But most of all, he hated that he couldn't stay mad at Denmark. Especially because he had an annoying headache, his back hurt, his stomach kept on getting this God-awful pain every now and then, and Denmark's idiocy was definitely NOT helping. With a bored look, Norway deadpanned, "Shut up, anko."

Denmark pouted. "What if I don't wanna," he asked teasingly. "What if I just want to tell you how much I love you? I mean, who the hell doesn't want to here that from me? I'm freaking awesome!"

The loudness if the Dane's voice just made Norway's headache throb more. "Shut up, your voice is annoying." A pain shot across the Norwegian's stomach and, as a stimulus, he clutched it – he didn't, however, want to grunt in pain and make his predicament obvious to Denmark, but would you guess what Norway did? Just that.

"Nor, you okay," the Dane asked hesitantly, placing a hand on his boyfriend's shoulder, trying to comfort him.

Getting up from his seat, the Norwegian mumbled, "M'fine, leave me alone." Off he walked and into their bedroom, Denmark staring at the cross-clip all the while.

Right before Norway slammed the door, the Dane was able to shout, "You can tell the awesome me anything!" Denmark sighed – something was wrong with Norway, but the guy wouldn't tell him what! It was just so frustrating. Sighing again, the 'King of Northern Europe' decided just to sleep on it.

Sleep did not come easy to the Norwegian. Instead of the pains fading like he had hoped, they got worse. Denmark took notice of this. "Norge," the Dane addressed him, "Are you positive that you're alright?"

"I'm fine," was the breathless reply that came without missing a beat.

Denmark bit his lip and watched his love tremble in pain for another moment before getting up and calling the doctor. "Why did you do that," Norway asked after the call ended. "I said I'm perfectly fine."

"Hell you are," was the reply.

* * *

><p><em>Great, <em>_juuust __great, _the doctor thought. _Get __on __a __flight __to __Europe. _Now. _All __for __that __damn, __snarky __guy __who __has __the __political __standing __of __Norway. __I __need __sleep __too! _Sighing, they got out of the cab and walked up to the house and let themselves in. If the Nordic couple wanted them, they were invited in – especially when it was three A.M. back home.

The doctor followed the sounds of pain and, when they had found the room, made their presence known. "What seems to be the problem?"

Deciding to pull a joke, Denmark replied, "Norway was pregnant so now he's gone into labor." This comment received a smack upside the head.

Taking the joke as seriousness, the doctor looked through their bag and found what they were looking for. "Ah, what a nice manual, dontcha think," the doctor asked rhetorically. "My old professor gave it to me, in case I forgot training. It's a manual on how to give birth! So convenient."

Needless to say, Denmark was laughing his ass off. Wiping a tear from his face, the Dane asked, "You're funny. What's your name, Doc?"

The doctor smiled. "Ethnic. Doctor I. M. Ethnic."

The laughter stopped short. Catiously, Denmark asked, "Are you serious?"

"Completely," Dr. Ethnic assured.

"What's the 'I' and 'M' stand for?"

Before the doctor could answer, Norway butt-in. "Would somebody please take the pain away," he asked, face as blank as ever.

Turning back to the patient, Dr. Ethnic set to work, still taking the pregnancy thing for truth. "Um," Denmark said, "The awesome me was just kidding when I said Norge was in labor."

Dr. Ethnic looked back up to the Dane, absolutely confused. "What are you talking about?" The doctor shook their head in disappointment, waving off anything Denmark was going to say. "If Norway isn't in labor, mind explaining why the child is already crowning?" Without waiting for a reply, they tried to calm Norway as best as they could.

"Wait… what?"

"Hmm… what was that? Oh, yes!" The doctor paused. "Don't name your kid 'Irony Means.' It's such a horrible name, and they'll go through years of humiliation and no one would dare to make friends with the weirdo and what not." Dr. Ethnic took on a deadly glare - if looks could kill, this would be it.

After a second, Denmark was finally able to get out, "Sure."

* * *

><p>Juki Kari Densen was just having the most wonderful time of her life. Talking to trolls, what could be better? Talking to trolls with her best friend, that's what!<p>

"Seriously, Juki, I don't see anything there," Roddy said.

Juki scowled. "What do you mean? This one is a giant! How can you not see them, Roddy?"

Roderich (junior)'s response was cut short when his mother called, telling them both that Norway had shown up to take Juki home. "Yeah, yeah, mom," was the reply. Roddy turned back to Juki. "How about this, when I throw my frying-pan, we'll see if it hits something. If it does, I'll believe you." Taking aim, Roddy let go, hoping for the best.

The frying-pan stopped flying in midair. Frowning, the girl turned back to her friend. "You made the troll mad. Now I won't see her in forever because of you."

Roddy was, however, grinning. "I believe you now, Juki! Be glad." He picked up the frying-pan to find out that it was bent. "But that thing hurt Fry. Do you know how long it took me to save up? Now gone to waste!"

"Juki," the children heard Norway call. "I'm leaving with out without you."

"Without me, please," was her reply. Sighing, Norway grabbed his daughter's arm and stomped off. She pouted. "Aw, mor, can't I stay?"

Sighing again, Norway deadpanned, "You're just like Denmark."

The girl grinned at that.

A couple of hours later, Juki was acting the complete opposite. Mostly because she was around her far. "Far," she addressed Denmark, "you're voice is annoying." The girl gave him a classic blank look.

Denmark pouted. "Is that anyway to treat me?"

"Yes."

The Dane rolled his eyes and replied, "You're just like Norway."

Again, the girl smiled.

**A/N: Don't hate me for being late. And Bookworm24061, the doctor has been named now. Hahahaha. Is it a boy or is it a girl? Mwhahahaha. :) Mor (Danish) = mother Far (Norwegian) = father. And, um, I read somewhere that "Densen" is a possible last name for Denmark, so... Juki is pronounced as Yuki, and Kari is KAH-reh. And, um, I hope I didn't fail at DenNor... Yeah, bye.**


	10. Episode 10: Spamano

I Didn't Know I was Pregnant: Spamano

**How can a man not know he was pregnant? With no weight gain, no cravings, and no symptoms. This is a true story of a man going into labor without knowing he was ever pregnant.**

"Oh, come on!" Spain looked back at Angel who was currently gazing with distaste at the mess he had left on the table. "Uncle Spain, the least you could do is put your dishes in the sink." Angel then proceeded to lift the dishes and plop them in said sink. Then her mood completely changed. "Wanna go make a mess and watch Uncle Lovino get mad?"

The Spaniard's face brightened and he nodded vigorously at his niece before the two set out to the living room to mess it up. Sadly, they were caught. "Just what do you two bastards think you're doing?"

Slowly, trying to be unnoticed, the two turned to face the Italian. "Not much, Uncle Lovi," Angel replied smoothly - her amber eyes betrayed her though.

"Yeah, Lovi, we weren't doing much," Antonio echoed, giving a million-dollar smile.

South Italy was not amused. "Hmph. Don't put any ideas in my niece's head, tomato bastard."

Antonio pouted. "She's my niece too, you know."

"Since when?"

"Since you married me."

"…"

Angel butted in, "Hey, Uncle Spain, is it possible to faint from blushing?"

"Let's find out," was the reply. So they watched, and they waited, and it wasn't long before Lovino made a move. A move to use the restroom. "How boring," Spain commented. The girl nodded her head in agreement.

The two lounged on the couch, waiting for the Italian to come back, both not having a care in the world. Angel was just about to say "Uncle Lovi's taking his time in there," when a scream came from the bathroom.

"Lovi? Are you okay," Antonio yelled.

"B-Blood!" Antonio scrambled for the doorknob. "Blood!"

Fearing for the worst, the Spaniard threw the door open to see Romano, fly still down, staring at the loo. From where he was, Spain could see the blood mixing with the water - and a spot forming on Lovino's pants. "L-Lovi?" Just as the name left his lips, Loving doubled over in pain. "Lovi!" Antonio whirled around only to find Angel peeping in, trying to figure out what was going. "Angel, go call an ambulance."

"Why," she asked curiously. The look Spain gave her reassured her that she did not need to know and went to do as she was told.

Not ten minutes later, South Italy was in the ambulance with the special doctor that every country had come to despise.

* * *

><p>Doctor Ethnic stared down at one of the Italys - they couldn't remember which - and tried to figure out why the loud mouth was in such pain. "Do something, medical bastard," the Italian snapped.<p>

"Yes, yes," the doctor told him, waving him off. They continued to analyze Romano.

Lovino was frowning. "You're that damn doctor that told me my brother's daughter was fine even though you never looked at her, isn't that right?" Doctor Ethnic smiled in response, and Loving went to go hit them, but a pain spread up spine before he could. "Cazzo!"

"Ah, that reminds me," the doctor exclaimed happily.  
>"How does 'cazzo' remind you of anything, fottuto bastardo?"<p>

The doctor then proceeded to explain, "You're most likely having a miscarriage. Isn't that depressing?" Even though they said this, Irony was smiling.

Lovino's response was a short, "Vaffanculo." Then: "Cosa?"

"Yes, yes," the doctor said, nodding their head, "yes, yes. And you're bleeding so much!" They said this like it was a happy thing. "I'll see what I can do," they said after seeing Romano's death glare. _If __looks __could __kill, _they thought, _it __would __be __that __look._

It was not a long examination; in fact it was very short. But, the thing that concerned the Italian was the fact that Doctor Ethnic told the driver to pull over. Then the doctor smiled at him, "We're gonna have to deliver your child right here. We can't wait, wouldn't want you _and_the child to die."

Lovino got out a quick "Huh?" before a pain hit him. "Shit!"

The doctor looked at him, disappointed. "Not 'shit,' no, it's a miracle. A nice baby, that's what you need to push out. Not shit." Needless to say, South Italy gave Irony the finger; Irony's response was to just laugh at their own joke.

That was how Caprice Mireya Vargas Carriedo was born.

* * *

><p>Lovino sighed, exasperated. "Caprice, how many times do I have to tell you? It is rude to call people bastards."<p>

"But you say it all the time, mamma," the girl pointed out. "If mamma calls people bastards, then it must not be so bad and I can say it too."

Lovino frowned and asked, "Name one person."

Caprice smiled. "You call padre 'tomato bastard' all the time. You call Uncle Ludwig 'potato bastard,' and you call our doctor 'medical bastard.' See, you use it all the time; that means I can use it."

A tapping came from the principle's desk - the principle was tapping her nails against the desk, seeing that the two were not making any progress. "Mister Carriedo," the principle said, addressing the Italian, "is what Caprice says true?"

"Of course it's not, school bastar- it is not true." When Romano heard his daughter laughing at him, he turned to her and said, "Shut up and don't tell the tomato bastar- Antonio."

The girl just smiled, "I'll be sure to tell the tomato bastard, don't worry." On she laughed, the principle obviously not happy, and South Italy very mortified.

The principle sighed and randomly asked, "Why did you want a child? You're obviously not fit to raise her. And on top of that, she's being raised into a gay-tolerant family. I wonder why the hospital even allowed you two to adopt her. She's even calling you her 'mother' even though you're a man - I guess that's the thing about gay men; one of them takes the role of the woman. Disgusting. I have half a mind to call child protective services. You're obviously not a proper family."

Suddenly the room felt cold and dark purple auras were beginning to glow off the Carriedo's skin. The temperature continued to drop and the auras continued to grow as the principle cowered in fear. While Caprice was just going to tell the woman off, Lovino slipped into Mafioso mode, pulling a gun out of his jacket, pointing it at the woman. "Retract your statements," he demanded, "Or die, bitch."

"Make me," the principle spit out, sounding more confident then she really was.

Trying to calm his anger, Lovino replied, "Antonio and I raise our daughter perfectly fine. It's only an anger issue; she takes after me on that. Other wise, her personality is a very happy one - she got that from Spain. Caprice is a normal girl with a normal family and a normal life; I demand it stay like that." He paused, staring the principle down. "Capisce?"

Fearing the worst - meaning life - the woman nodded her head, not saying a word. And with that, Romano and Caprice left.

When they got home, Spain asked, "Get in trouble for calling everybody bastards again, Capri?"

"Sí, padre," the girl answered simply.

Antonio chuckled. "That's mi hija."

**A/N: Spamano! I hope I didn't fail... And, um, I felt bad for not giving Angel (refer back to first chapter) any after story, so she showed up here. Which made the two connected... which I said I wouldn't do... Anyway, I wrote the last part because I really hate intolerant people and I write to vent and that came out... So, line up: RussPruss, PruAus, Ameripan, & RussiaxEstonia, if I didn't forget anybody, which Imma pretty sure I didn't...**


	11. Episode 11: RussPruss

I Didn't Know I was Pregnant: RussPruss

**How can a man not know he was pregnant? With no weight gain, no cravings, and no symptoms. This is a true story of a man going into labor without knowing he was ever pregnant.**

"You are so awesome!" Prussia continued to smile. It was turning out to be such a perfect day - he finally got off his lazy ass and moved in with his boyfriend Russia. And, maybe real soon, the Prussian would have the honor marrying the country. Ah, hopes and dreams, just the greatest things ever, right?

Russia chuckled. "My house is that nice, da? I'm glad you like it, bit cold though." Gilbert shrugged it off - he understood why Ivan didn't like snow, 'cause, you know, living somewhere warm would be the bomb!

_But __this __is __Russia__'__s __house, __his __land, __how __could __I __ever __hate __it, _Gilbert thought, smiling more. Then he responded, "If the awesome me gets to live with you, then I sure as hell don't mind."

"Even if hell is cold?"

"Even then. Because, you know, I'm awesome like that."

Normally, Russia would have one of the Baltic brother's give the tours of his house, but the Russian made the acceptation; just for Prussia, though. He led his boyfriend all over his house, pointing out all the necessary things he would need to remember, and then some.

"Kesesesese," Gilbert laughed, "You're house _is _totally awesome. Totally better than Luddy's basement - that place is just totally unawesome." Russia chuckled along with him, believing every word. Then again, compared to basements, practically every place is better.

For the remainder of the day, to two unpacked most of Prussia's things, setting the newly empty boxes outside the door for someone to take. With that, they ate dinner (made by Lithuania) and went to bed.

But Prussia's sleep was anything but restful. He kept tossing and turning, waking Russia up repeatedly. Trying to be nice, the Prussian offered to sleep on the floor and, without waiting for a reply, did just that. However, even if he was on the floor now, he still did not get much rest. Gilbert's back hurt like hell, random sparks of pain kept shooting up his back, and the hard wood floor he was laying on didn't help. Even though lying on the bed probably wouldn't have helped much either.

The pain kept increasing, but, surprisingly, Prussia kept it all in. Being the 'awesome' boyfriend he is, he decided not to wake up Ivan again. Even if it really, really, really hurt. He was a man - the awesome nation of Prussia! He had been through way worse… but the more the pain increased, the more he doubted that he had been through worse.

And then the pain dulled some as Prussia felt something leave him. He didn't dare uncover whatever was there, wanting whatever just happened to stay in the blankets - and hopefully _shut __up_. After going through horrible, soul crushing, deadly pain, the last thing Gilbert wanted to hear was something screaming its head off.

Russia instantly sat up as he heard the shriek. "Prussia," he called out, blinded by the darkness, impatiently waiting for his eyes to adjust. When they did, the Russian saw his boyfriend on the floor staring down at it… no, Gilbert wasn't staring at the floor; he was staring at what was _on_ the floor. "Prussia?" The Prussian's head snapped up and stared at Russia and… Russia had never, ever, seen the expression Prussia now wore on his face. He was scared, like the laws of physics didn't exist any more, but at the same time, Gilbert was happy, like he was a real nation again. What was causing these conflicting emotions?

Cautiously, Ivan leaned over the bed to see the thing lying on the floor. In surprise, the Russian started to ask, "C-Сделал…" before Prussia nodded his head, affirming the Russian's suspicions. "Ребенка ... нашего ребенка." Russia smiled - yes, he liked that idea…

…the idea of him and Gilbert having a child.

* * *

><p>Arabella Василиса Braginski had always hated school - it's like, who didn't? It was school. The worst part of school was that one kid who made fun of her laugh. So she didn't laugh "hahaha," what was the bid deal? "Kokeke" was not weird at all - it was a normal laugh! More normal then "kolkolkol" and "kesese" at least.<p>

Currently, Arabella was grocery shopping with her Mutti and пaпa when she saw that kid - yes, the kid that always bothered her about her laugh. Quickly, she hid behind her Mutti. "Arabella," he asked, surprised. She didn't bother looking at him - she kept her eyes on that kid. Gilbert followed her line of sight and smirked. "Got an awesome crush, do we?"

Arabella flushed and snapped, "I hate him, Mutti." Of course, now that she had spoken, the kid noticed her.

"Oi, weird-laugh," the boy called out, "C'mere."

Prussia frowned. "'Weird-laugh'," he repeated. "You don't have a weird laugh."

Calling back, Arabella said, "I don't have an odd laugh - that's all in your unawesome head, da?"

"Bite my ass," was the reply.

Before either country could step in and beat the kid up, the girl was quick to say, "No, I'll leave that job to your boyfriend." Both men froze, then turned to see their daughter smiling triumphantly as the kid that had been tormenting her turn and walk away. She looked at both of them and suggested to keep shopping.

Later that night, Russia and Prussia were conversing about the event. "What a clever reply, da," Russia put in.

Prussia smirked and said, "She got that from the awesome me."

**A/N: Haha, I failed at this. I know I did. Translations: 'D-Did...' 'Child... our child' and 'papa.' You pronounce the middle name 'vahsahLEEsah' just so you know... And, um, I feel like I just cheated on my PruCan... Sorry for the late update, but this was difficult to write (mostly because this pairing freaks me out; no offense to anybody - naturally - and I really hope I didn't disappoint, but...). Don't you jsut love Winter Break, though? Two weeks off of school! :)**


	12. Episode 12: AusPru

I Didn't Know I was Pregnant: PruAus

**How can a man not know he was pregnant? With no weight gain, no cravings, and no symptoms. This is a true story of a man going into labor without knowing he was ever pregnant.**

Hungary frowned. "What do you mean I can't take pictures? You're the guys who are staying over. And it's my house!" She pouted, trying to appeal to the other countries' better nature. It was, unfortunately not working.

"Liz, you're our friend and all," Prussia started, "but we would like our private lives to stay private. The awesome me can't have totally unawesome pictures floating around on the internet." He crossed his arms in emphasis. Then placed them back on his hurting stomach.

"Gilbert's right," Austria put in. "We appreciate that you are letting us stay in your house, but we would prefer that you don't stalk us."

Hungary sighed. The only reason she was letting them stay was to get some pictures - Japan has been dying to get some of these two. Now all that has gone to waste. "Alright," she agreed. "Fine. Just remind me why you're staying." In truth, the Hungarian already knew why they were here; she had asked them to repeat nine times before, afterall. She only wanted Roderich to get his pants is a bunch. Possibly make him smile, but even she knew he wouldn't. It would just annoy him.

Austria rolled his eyes. "For the tenth time, Prussia and I were traveling around and he suddenly didn't feel too well, so if you wouldn't mind, Elizabeta, would you call the doctor?"

It didn't take long for the doctor to show up. "What do you want," Dr. Ethnic sighed, looking over the Prussian in pain.

"I just called you over for a hello," Prussia joked, "and not because I'm in obvious pain."

The shock on Dr. Ethnic's face was priceless; nonetheless, the doctor replied without missing a beat, "Oh? If that's all, I'll just leave." With that, they started to pack up.

"Wait, you're serious?"

"Of course."

"Well, shit. I was joking."

"Really?"

"Ja, I was. I am in pain - apparently not _obvious _pain. Kesesesese!" The doctor joined in with Prussia, laughing, until the pain he was experiencing suddenly hurt just a bit more. Irony set to find out what was wrong with the dissolved nation.

Soon, they found the problem. "Hmm. From the looks of it," they started, "you're five months pregnant. So, I suggest that in these next for months, hurry the hell up to make a nursery, get supplies and what not, and try to still the pain - just make sure to remember, labor is one million times worse then the pain right now. And with that explained, have fun and congratulations!" This time, the doctor did leave.

It was quiet in the Hungarian house until Prussia screamed, "The hell?"

(•.•)

In the four hours it took to come to terms that Gilbert was pregnant, the pain had increased drastically. The abolished nation couldn't even stand anymore. Strings of curses flowed continuously from his mouth and soon his mouth became dry. It - whatever 'it' is - hurt like… saying it hurt like hell was an understatement. It hurt worse then hell; it hurt worse then an angel losing its wings; it hurt worse then the pain of losing a family member; it hurt more then losing his land. Damn, did it hurt!

"Gil," Hungary asked timidly, "You okay?" Harsh words were the response. "Do you want me to call the doc again?" It wasn't Prussia who agreed, it was Austria. Though, none of them could take much more of this.

Grumbling gibberish to themself, Irony trudged up to Elizabeta's door for the second time that. They pounded it on it until Roderich finally opened the door. "What do you want this time," the doctor demanded.

"Ah, well," the Austrian explained, "It seems Prussia is in even more pain then when you left."

"Hell if I care," Dr. Ethnic mumbled, walking into the threshold. "Where is he?" Austria pointed him to the same room that they had been in earlier today. But before they entered, the Hungarian screamed. Needless to say, the two rushed in. Curses were still leaving the Prussian's mouth, Elizabeta looked faint, and, seeing the circumstances, Austria looked nauseous while the doctor could care less.

Sighing, Dr. Ethnic took action.

(•.•)

Klarissa Nadine Edelstein had lived eleven years believing it was perfectly normal for a man to pregnant. What was it that made her realize the truth? She had asked her parents what had happened the day she was born. It was a simple, harmless, innocent Christmas present that Klarissa refused give up.

So there the Edelstein family was, Christmas music playing in the background, snow covering the ground outside, sitting by the fluorescent tree. "You really want to know how the awesome you was born," Prussia double-checked, trying to stall. His daughter nodded her head. "Alright, if you say so."

Off the story went of how Austria and Prussia were traveling around Hungary when Prussia felt a pain in his belly. On to how they had arrived at Hungary's house and called a doctor. Next to how the doctor explained that Prussia was most likely five months pregnant. And then to how the pain increased and the doctor was needed again. Finally to how Prussia gave birth to a perfectly healthy, full-term child. Plus, as an added note, how Austria, Prussia, and Hungary all hate that doctor. They were such a d-bag.

Klarissa was giggling through the whole story, relishing in how idiotic it was. "S-So, you didn't kn-know you were pregnant with me, your awesome daughter," she got out between giggles, desperately trying to keep her air supply on normal.

Prussia pouted. "Well, the awesome me is sorry for fully believing that men can't get pregnant. Unawesome laws of physics." That made the girl giggle more.

"Klarissa, you did know that most men can't get pregnant, right," Austria asked, sorta kinda fearing the answer.

Their daughter frowned. "Why not?"

"They aren't as awesome," Gilbert supplied.

"Then they should become more awesome."

"That they should."

**A/N: I had to add those monkey emoticons... So, like, Merry Christmas Eve, for today. But overall, Happy Holidays! And before I forget, there's this person, called TheAwesomeHero, who got inspired by my little story and tried it out... so, if you want, you could always check it out...**

**Happy Holidays (again)! (•.•) ;D**


	13. Episode 13: AmeriPan

I Didn't Know I was Pregnant: AmeriPan

**How can a man not know he was pregnant? With no weight gain, no cravings, and no symptoms. This is a true story of a man going into labor without knowing he was ever pregnant.**

America snickered causing Japan to ask whatever was funny. "Batman's such a playboy," he answered, laughing fully. Needless to say, Japan was still confused. "This girl claims to be the mother of his son Damian," America explained, "even though she was brainwashed into hating Bruce and her dad. Her name's Talia al Ghul and - can you believe it? - her dad's Ra's al Ghul! The evil guy!" Kiku sighed and turned back to his work.

It wasn't long before he got an uncomfortable pain in his stomach. He waved it off as the bad sushi he had eaten earlier that day. He had told Alfred the manufactured sushi was no good, but had the American listened? No. Of course he didn't. But the Japanese man wasn't complaining; he loved the American not matter how wacky or simple minded he was. In every sense of the word, Alfred was American. That could be taken as a compliment or as an insult and if Al took it as an insult, Japan would step up and apologize. Not that America took being called American an insult, no, of course not.

Gradually, the pain in Kiku's stomach grew. "America-san, sorry to leave you in such a critical part of your game, but I am going to take a shower." _Yes, _Japan thought, _maybe a nice, warm shower will take away this pain. Please, Kami-sama, take away this pain. _He stepped into the not-so-humbly-sized shower, hissing a bit at the scorching hot water. Not wanting to be boiled into soup, the Japanese man set the water to what he could take.

Not that he started to relax, but Kiku could hope.

The hurting, Kiku realized, had only begun. "Ouch," he whimpered to nothing, clutching his tummy.

America hadn't read the atmosphere, naturally, but he did suspect something was up when Japan's shower was taking waaaaay too long for his tastes. Pausing his game ruefully, the American walked over to the bathroom door and knocked. "Kiku," he called, "is everything all right?" He got no reply, so, being his brash self, Alfred opened the door and looked in cautiously.

The mirror was fogged, the hot shower still running, but the person in the shower was doubled over in pain. "Japan!"

"I'm sorry to make you worry," the Japanese man grunted out before collapsing in America's outstretched arms.

* * *

><p>For once in their life, Irony Ethnic was having the time of their life. Oh, glorious day! For once, they didn't have to worry about insane calls from nutty nations; for once, they didn't have to worry about leaving their life behind for crazy countries; for once, they didn't have to worry about waking up just as they fell asleep because of a lazy land; for once, they didn't have to worry about listening to crap spewing out of eccentric empires; for once, they didn't have to worry about conducting surgery on distressed domains; it was their day off. Jump around, throw a party, dance like a madman - the doctor had their annual day off today! Nothing could ruin it!<p>

One this annual day, Doctor Ethnic would spend the day with their friends, maybe visit their family, have a day with, um, that…with jittery butterf- heart- poun…(how do you say it?) they spent time with the, uh, the person they, um, _lovedthemost_, and overall have an awesome time. They were on an outing with their friends and family when that abusing, brash, cursed, damned call came. "What do you want," Irony practically yelled into the phone. The rest of the party stared at them in surprise. The voice at the other end trembled as they explained that America had placed a call in for Japan. "I can't," the doctor growled, "it's my one day off in the whole entire year. I'm not going in. … I don't care who the hell it is; I am going to enjoy the day with my friends and family 'cause ev'ryone knows I don't see them enough. … No, I refuse. … Not even a check up. … I don't care that he's crying out in pain! … I don't care that he's worried sick! … Goddamnit, no!"

"Irony," their mother sighed, "I don't want the mysterious person's death on our hands." By 'mysterious person,' their mother meant that no one knew just who in the world paid the doctor so much, or why in the world the doctor hated the job, and why in the world I. M. Ethnic frowned at the mention of the world. But, nonetheless, whoever this person was, the mother did not want their death on her hands or anyone else on the picnic.

Dr. Ethnic sighed. "Alright," they huffed. "I'll come take a look at him." With that, they waved good-bye.

When they got to the hospital, it didn't take long to access the problem. A healthy baby girl was born in no time and America's reaction was priceless.

Somewhere between showing up at the hospital and the doctor showing up, America had called over China because … why not call up a wise old man? Somewhere between the doctor going into Kiku's room and coming out of Japan's room, America became more of a mess then he already was. Somewhere between confronting the American and watching the American faint, China and Alfred learned that Japan had been pregnant, gone into labor, and gave birth to a perfectly healthy, totally adorable, awesomely awesome newborn.

Irony paused to wonder how the child's life would turn out before they went back to having a marvelous day with people they cared for.

* * *

><p>Azami Talia Jones, fourteen years old, loved Disneyland. In fact, she and her family were at Disneyland for their annual trip right now! What could have been better? Oh, wait, it was Christmas themed! Lights were strung everywhere, everyone was dressed warmly, and the air was chill. Not that Azami cared - no, she was wearing a slim red tank top, camo booty shorts, and combat boots. Nothing could make this girl shiver… well, except, maybe horror films. But that was it, she swore on her life that was it!<p>

Currently, the Jones family stood in line for Space Mountain. Being the family they were: people stared. Being the stares they were, the undercover police people at Disneyland caught onto the looks. "Um, excuse me," a person in plainclothes asked suspiciously, "Is everything alright here?" Okay, yes, this person was in normal tourist clothing, but, honestly, this person was a cop! Truthfully!

America answered before Japan, a bit too quickly. "Of course!" He let loose a million-dollar smile, his teeth literally glittering in the sunlight. "What could ever be the problem?"

Ignoring the American, the cop turned to Azami. "Do you know these men?"

Azami sighed. This had not been the first time this happened; it happened every time they came. "Yes. Yes I do. This idiot," she pointed to America, "is my dad, while this guy," she pointed to Kiku, "is my okaa-san." The cop looked confused at 'okaa-san.' "Mother," she translated. Needless to say, the cop left before they could go into detail on why the Japanese man was called 'mother.'

Azami turned to see a blushing Japan and a pouting Alfred. "I'm not an idiot," he protested, "How could you treat your dad like this?"

"Easy," she replied.

"Hmph." To win back her father's heart, she smiled at him. He naturally smiled back, not realizing he was falling back into the trap. The girl smiled wider at the thought.

"L-Let's just have fun today," Japan squeaked out as the line continued to move forward. The two nodded in agreement.

**A/N: Happy New Years, guys! So, that was some horrible insight on Irony's life. :) Please don't kill me for making their life terrible! Line Up: RussiaxEstonia, ItaGer, Germanno. ItaGer: Germany's having the kid this time. Anymore requests to add to this line up? BTW, Azami means something like thistle, or maybe something about a flower, idk, I forgot. And cops at Disneyland... some of them really are in plainclothes. It's creepy, they come out of walls. *Shudder***


	14. Episode 14: RussiaxEstonia

I Didn't Know I was Pregnant: RussiaxEstonia

**How can a man not know he was pregnant? With no weight gain, no cravings, and no symptoms. This is a true story of a man going into labor without knowing he was ever pregnant.**

"Are you positive you are fine," Russia asked for the umpteenth time. "Be cause if you're not, I can-"

Estonia sighed once again. "I'm fine, okay? My ankles just feel a bit sore – and before you say anything about treating them, America has already set up an appointment with his masseuse. Now, if you excuse me, I'll be off." With that, Estonia picked up his coat of the hotel bed, shrugged it on, waved good-bye to Russia, and was out the door before anything else could happen.

And, man, did walking _hurt_. It was like walking through knives, all of them hitting Eduard's ankles. _This masseuse better be good or else I won't be able to live any longer, _he thought. _Ai, pask, it _hurts_! _Nonetheless, the Estonian still trudged on, feeling like he was walking through a freezing blizzard (even if it was the middle of summer here in America). Thankfully, the masseuse's store was not too far from the hotel and Estonia got there soon enough – not fast enough for him, though.

"Oh, hi," said the young woman from behind the counter. "Are you the three o'clock appointment? Mister von Bock, correct?"

Estonia nodded. "Yes, I'm Eduard von Bock." The young woman just simply nodded and brought the nation to the back.

"Now," she started, "What seems to be the problem? Mister Jones claimed your ankles had been hurting, is that correct?" Estonia nodded again. "All right; easily fixable. Just take a seat and I'll begin." The Estonian immediately sat down, thankful to be off his feet. Taking a foot in her hand, she giggled. "If I didn't know better, I would assume you're pregnant, judging from how swollen your ankles are." He laughed too, trying to let lose and relax. A sliver of pain shot up his side, instantly silencing him. He clutched his sides, trying to keep them together, trying to forget the pain. Even the woman massaging his ankles with nimble fingers did not make that sudden pain better. Thankfully, the pain went away and, hopefully, it would stay away.

It was a couple of moments after the lady had switched feet that a wave of nausea came over him. The unsettling urge to vomit took over and acid rose up his throat, threatening to spill over. Not wanting to upchuck on the girl, Eduard swallowed it – ew, taste your own bile is not cool. The forbidden release of his stomach left him feeling faint, for whatever reason. The room started spinning, his vision growing black, his breath became forced, and then the room vanished.

* * *

><p><em>Just look at all these files, <em>Irony thought. _One file for each doctor. To think, I'll have my own when I hit the bucket. But which one to read about? Hmm… _The doctor had been having lazy days for the past week, which was unusual but loved. To relieve boredom, they decided to check out the documents of past doctors only to have been stumped on which one to read about. _How far back in time should I go? The one before me? The century before this one? Or… Well, I'm standing next to the 1930s. Might as well check out one here. _Slowly, they pulled out the drawer and plucked a file out. It was labeled "Dr. Different". Chuckling at the name, Doctor Ethnic opened the file and started to read the first name of the mysterious person when a sharp _ring! _cut through the air. Sighing, they reached for their pocket and got the phone out, answering it glumly.

Supposedly, Estonia fainted.

_Getting worked up over nothing, _the doctor thought, _Damn Russia. So what if his boyfriend fainted? Just put cold water on his head and he'll wake up soon. But do they think of that? Nope. Of course they don't. Because they're idiots. ALL of them. I wonder what would happen if the general public found out their beloved countries were imbeciles. All types of hysteria, I'm sure. _Irony wasted now time to get to the hospital Estonia was brought too; why prolong the inevitable?

Begrudgingly, Doctor Ethnic put on their white coat and some blue gloves before going in to see the nation that slept through the bustling of the hospital. How exciting.

Estonia was lying on the bed peacefully (or not) while Russia was fretting about. "He's gonna be fine," the doctor mumbled while walking past the gigantic Russian. "Now get out." Sighing, he assessed the Estonian, noting the obvious pain in his face while he slept. Something was wrong, but what, Irony couldn't tell with just one glance. They sighed and set to work. Damn work, why you so mean?

Four hours later, Russia was allowed back in the room.

* * *

><p>"Daggi! Hey, hey, Daggi," someone called. Daggi turned and saw her friend grinning at her and waving, signaling for her to come. The girl dropped what she was doing and headed over, her friend's smile not faltering. "Dags, guess what? There are these two people who are here!" Her friend said this as if it explained everything. After reading her quizzical look, the boy continued to explain, "They're looking for their kid and stuff! See, what I heard from eavesdropping, one of them has this crazy sister who took their kid from them and placed that kid in an orphanage because the crazy sister thought that if she couldn't be happy, her brother and whoever he had this kid with couldn't be happy, and so they're looking for that kid! Isn't that exciting?"<p>

Daggi just blinked. "This applies to me because…?"

"It could be one of us!"

"Right," she agreed, though the chance of that happening was most likely zero. "Of course it could." Daggi rolled her eyes and went back to her book.

"You aren't excited," Nicholas asked, deflated.

"Should I be?"

"Yes!" His face appeared above her book, making her drop it in surprise. "Come on! Let's just go check them out like a bunch of other people are." He paused. "And make sure you look happy. Or rather feel happy – maybe they'll like your pink aura." She just chuckled and followed. "Or, you know, scare away the scary one. Either works." The only had to walk down one hallway to see the wall of people, though a very tall man could easily be seen. "See, Daggi, there they are!" Nicholas started pushing through the crowd, dragging Daggi with him.

After a moment, the two friends got close enough to hear the two… men? Whatever. "I don't see her," one complained, the shorter one. "Maybe we should try another one?"

"Just keep looking, da?" Just then, the very big man turned to face their side of the crowd. He had alarming violet eyes. "All you children look like skin and bone, da?" He chuckled softly. "You should get to eating. Or possibly, eat each other, da? Da, that sounds fun." While the other children cowered in fear at the obviously Russian man, Daggi had to contain her giggling. Pain from others is just so hilarious! "And what with the dirtiness? Would you rather take a freezing bath or boiling hot one? I would prefer the hot one, da? Much warmer." A dark purple aura started to form around him while a bright pink one formed around Daggi, showing she was deeply happy. "Now, has one of you seen my daughter? She looks just like her mother, da? Perhaps you know her? I should get my pipe to motivate you, da?"

"Ivan, you're scaring them," the shorter one scolded. Ivan just looked down at him and smiled.

"It is working," Ivan said. "Look." He pointed into the crowd, but to whom, Daggi could not tell from the tears in her eyes – her torso felt like bursting form laughter.

"Daggi," Nickolas murmured, "Shut up. The creep is pointing at you."

"Let him," she choked out. "He's funny."

"He's unsettling."

"You're referring to me, da?" Nickolas looked up in fear, elbowing his friend. The Russian was standing right in front of them, towering over. Daggi tried her best to calm down.

"I'm sorry," she said, "but you must be a comedian."

"Alas, dear Daggi, I am not. I am a politician." He smiled, the aura growing a bit. "But that is close enough to comedy, da?" After some thought, the man asked, "Do you want to come home with me?"

"Perv," was the quick retort.

Ivan chuckled. "Don't worry; I am gay, da? Gay for Eduard."

"Russia!" Ivan just chuckled and took Daggi's hand. "Let's go, Daggi. Before Ivan scares all your friends off." Eduard paused and added, "Welcome back to the Braginski family."

"… Russia?"

**A/N: Daggi Зоя (Zoya) Braginski is her full name, but I never got a chance to put it all in. :( And very very very really really really sorry sorry sorry for not updating for two weeks. To make it up to you guys, I'll update tomorrow. And the next day. Yay for getting out early due to finals! :) Tests are horrible, however. See ya tomorrow! p.s. Guess who learned the Russian alphabet? We did! Hahahaha :)**


	15. Episode 15: ItaGer

I Didn't Know I was Pregnant: ItaGer

**How can a man not know he was pregnant? With no weight gain, no cravings, and no symptoms. This is a true story of a man going into labor without knowing he was ever pregnant.**

"Pasta, pasta, pasta, pasta~! Pasta, pasta, pasta, pasta~! Pasta, pasta, pasta, pasta, pasta, yay~! Yahoo," Italy sang, stirring the softening noodles.

Wilhelm laughed. "What an interesting song, Ita-chan," he remarked. "Sadly, it isn't as interesting as the interesting me." His penguin – Ginpey - nodded in agreement. "Ginshay thinks so, too."

"And who are you," the penguin retorted. "William, right?"

"Wilhelm." Italy just laughed at the bickering – the two kind of reminded him of… hmm, what was Wilhelm's mother's name again? It always escaped his mind. Shrugging it off, Feliciano went back to making his pasta.

The front door opened and closed, signaling Germany's arrival. "I'm home," he announced. "I am assuming you are making pasta for din- is Wilhelm here?"

Wilhelm went out to greet his uncle, dragging Ginpey along. "Heya, Onkel. How're you?" Germany made a face. "Yeah, Vatti decided to leave me at your place again; he said something about him and maman having some time alone – how uninteresting, right?"

"Sex," Ginpey translated.

"Gintie, don't be so vulgar!"

Ludwig just ignored it, instead he thought about how he was going to wring his brother's neck. He dropped his kid off every Thursday. With the same excuse. It honestly got old a long time ago. Years, to be in fact. Why couldn't they just drop Wilhelm off at the damn American's place? Not that Germany didn't love his nephew, but… oh, who was he kidding? They probably shoved Wilhelm on America every Tuesday. Couldn't he hang out with a friend? A sleepover? He was old enough. Or possibly, Wilhelm could go on a date with some pretty girl or guy, which would work, too. Germany sighed. He'll just have to live through it.

"Welcome home, Doitsu," Italy greeted when said German walked into the kitchen. "I'm making pasta." Germany just nodded.

It was when they had sat down for dinner that Germany felt an odd pain in his stomach. He shrugged it off and began eating Feliciano's newest recipe for pasta. As always, it was better than the last. "Do you like it," the Italian asked, waiting eagerly for an answer.

"It's interesting," the boy answered.

"I like it; it is the best one yet," were the lines Ludwig said everyday. It was script now.

"Define interesting," Italy said hurriedly, even if he already knew what his nephew was to say.

Wilhelm smirked. "The 'ing' of interest." And then back to eating pasta, though he so wished it was waffles (covered in whipped cream, of course).

"Idiot," the penguin retorted. "Interesting: not boring; enjoyable because of being varied, challenging, stimulating, of exciting; arousing curiosity or attention; provoking thought. Not the 'ing' of interest, William."

"Wilhelm."

Halfway through the meal, Germany felt the pain again and noted it was to the right of his belly button. An appendix problem, maybe? The seemed plausible yet impossible at the same time. Or possibly just a plain old stomach ache? Whatever was the cause, it went quickly away. At the end of dinner, however, it came back, fiercer this time. _Just a little pain, _the German thought, _you've been through worst; it will go away. _Or so he hoped.

By the time Wilhelm and Ginpey were tucked neatly into bed did Germany really feel pain. "Italy," he wheezed out at one shock, "take me to the hospital."

"Ve?" Italy looked up from cleaning plates in alarm. "Why?"

"Just do it, please." The Italian did as told with no more questions, much to the German's liking.

When Dr, Ethnic entered, they did not say a word; instead, they went about their job in bored manner. "Are you okay," Italy asked at one point. "You are usually whining about now."

"'M jus' tired," the doctor answered, yawning once to prove a point. "I'd like it if you would leave; it'd make it easier." Italy looked down at a Germany, then back up to the doctor, then back to Germany. Sighing a tiny "Ve," the Italian left the room, letting Dr. Ethnic take over. "M'kay, Gernamy," Irony said with another yawn, barely noticing the mispronunciation of the nation's name, "Yer preggers, so jus' calm down an' follow dire'tions. 'Kay?"

"Was?"

* * *

><p>Alois Rigatoni Vargas sighed for the umpteenth time that day. "Ba~, must we clean the house, Mutti?"<p>

Germany just rolled his eyes and responded (ignoring that his son just called him, a _man_, 'mommy'), "Yes. The house is filthy."

"But there's not a speck of dust," Italy whined. "Why can't we just go make pasta?"

"Or pretzels?"

Germany sighed, giving in. "Fine. Go make pasta and pretzels. I'll clean."

Italy giggled. "Ve~, you're such a housewife." Germany blushed, his cheeks now a beet red. "C'mon, Alois, let's go cook!"

"'Kay!"

Needless to say, Germany cleaned up every mess the two made in the kitchen the moment they made them. Per usual.

**A/N: Heh heh. I said I would post today and I didn't break the promise. I just posted it at nine o'clock PM. Ha. So, I added Wilhelm because I felt bad not giving him a character way back in chapter 2. So here he is. :) It is short because... well, you know, it's short and I was lacking inspiration. :( But, anyway... Line Up: Germano, AusSwitz, TurGree, HongIce, GiriPan, UKUS, PruAus, Romerica, Romaria. See ya tomorrow!**


	16. Episode 16: Germano

I Didn't Know I was Pregnant: Germano

**How can a man not know he was pregnant? With no weight gain, no cravings, and no symptoms. This is a true story of a man going into labor without knowing he was ever pregnant.**

A cold chill ran down Germany's back. He could feel that something was going to go amiss tonight, but what? Well, if he knew, he would not be worrying about it. Then again, why focus on intuition when there was work needing to be done? With that thought in mind, he set to finishing his work, trying not to get a paper cut.

It was late when he arrived back home. There was, however, a light still on inside. Stepping into the house, he instantly saw Italy Romano sitting down on his big, tomato-like chair reading the latest novel he had picked up. And, gosh, did he look dead-tired. Germany sighed and said (announcing his presence at the same time), "You did not have to wait for me, you know."

Romano jumped a bit at the German's voice breaking the silence. To cover up the surprise, Romano bookmarked his page and answered, "Don't tell me what to do, potato eater; I can wait for whoever I want." Germany smiled a bit at that. "What took so long to get home, anyways?"

"It was a lot of work," Germany defended. "There were so many papers; I'm surprised I don't have a paper cut."

Lovino just "hmphed" and crossed his arms across his chest, trying to look intimidating more than relieved. "Call next time, bastard." Ludwig waved it off, making a note to do so. "Now, I'm tired, so I'll be going to bed and it's your decision whether you want to come or not."

"Of course," the German agreed, "I'll follow you anywhere."

South Italy woke up in the early morning, his lower abdomen hurting; to get rid of the pain, he decided to get up and walk around a bit. He got out of bed, trying to make as little movement and noise possible so he wouldn't disturb the sleeping man next to him. Cautiously, Romano made his way to the door, hoping the hinges wouldn't squeak; when they didn't, he walked around the house, stopping in the kitchen for a tomato. It was there the pain got worse, to the point to where the Italian could barely stand. He held in his cries in hopes that his pride would not be mangled, but the hope was short-lived. "Germany," he screamed. "Germany, help!" _Thud! _

Germany ran into the kitchen, holding his stick-friend, and expecting the worse. "_Was_? _Was_ is it?" Seeing the problem, he immediately dropped the stick, his jaw falling open, and his mind in utter disarray. Quickly, but to him not quick enough, Ludwig broke out of shock and grabbed the home phone, dialing England's number. When the bloke answered, Germany shot words out. "England, I'm sorry to bother you at such a time. You're good with medical things, correct? Lovino… he… What do we do?" His heart was pounding and his breath was short, making it seem that he had just run a marathon or something of the sort.

"Slow down, Germany," England begged. "Yes, I have some knowledge about the subject, but what is wro- who is crying?"

"The b-baby," was the German's unsteady response.

* * *

><p>Severina Steffi Beilshmidt enjoyed karaoke-ing. It was quite fun and, while singing, she could pass up her voice (which she believed was the most horrid thing in the world) as just having fun. Too bad she was grounded and couldn't go out karaoke-ing with Roddy, her friend. Nonetheless, she could still sing to herself while she cleaned up her messy room. Honestly, how is one tomato fight worth being grounded over? Big whoop, it happened all the time but madre just refused to see the fun in harming innocent tomatoes.<p>

Then again… she could sing to herself while cleaning the room. "_Miserere, miserere, miserere, misero me pero' brindo alla vita! Ma che mistero, e'la mia vita che mistero! Sono un peccatore dell'anno ottantamila un menzogne-_"

"I never understood why you found your voice so terrible," Roddy interrupted, leaning on the doorframe. "It's beautiful." Severina froze, dropping her rag in embarrassment. "You should sing more often – and not in your karaoke voice, your actual one. Maybe you'd actually get a guy instead of staying a loner." At this comment, she picked up her dirty rag and threw it at her friend. He acted offended, saying, "Oh, how dare you!" but after that, they burst out laughing.

After the giggles died down, Severina asked, "What are you doing here?"

"Well," Roddy started, "I didn't think it was fair that you would be cleaning up a mess we made together. So I came to help; will you accept my help?" She smiled and nodded.

After hours of work, the room was tomato-free. The two friends lay down on the ground absolutely tired. "Hey, Severina?" She turned her head to acknowledge him. "Do mind finishing the song you started singing?"

And so she did, ending with a triumphant, "_Miserere, miserere, quella gioia di vivere che forse, ancora non c_'?" It was silent after that, Severina's voice echoing through the house. But the girl loved the feeling of singing so openly, without anyone listening to her that she felt self-conscious around; it was absolutely wonderful!

"See? What did I tell you? Beautiful." Roddy's whisper cut through the silence like a knife and yet it did not phase her mood. She was still elated, and Roddy's compliment only made her ego bigger. "What song was that?"

"My favorite," Severina responded, smiling a bit. "_Miserere _by Andrea Bocelli. I found it on one of madre's CDs one day and I've liked it ever since. Isn't it pretty? You should hear him sing it; his voice will make you melt."

"I'll take your word for it."

**A/N: Again. I did not break the promise. It's just I posted really late. :) Italian Song Translation: _Wretched, wretched, wretched, wretched me, but I toast life! What a mystery! I'm a sinner from the year 80,000, a lia- (liar!) ... Wretched, wretched me, the joy to live that perhaps, is not yet there. _It's a pretty song. :) And sorry it's another short chapter. But anywayzzzz... karaoke-ing is fun (and, yes, "karaoke-ing" is not a word)! See ya some time soon :)**


	17. Episode 17: AusSwitz

I Didn't Know I was Pregnant: AusSwitz

**How can a man not know he was pregnant? With no weight gain, no cravings, and no symptoms. This is a true story of a man going into labor without knowing he was ever pregnant.**

"I'll be home by dinner time," Austria announced, heading out to run errands. "I hope you feel better when I get back."

Switzerland sighed, patting his stomach. "Me too," he agreed, "me too." With a brief kiss, Austria was out the door, leaving the blonde man at home. He had not at all been feeling good. The cramps were getting unbearably worse; the heartburn made his chest feel like it was filled with acid; the shortness of breath getting to the point of hyperventilating; and the urge to go was getting overwhelmingly higher even if he went just five minutes ago. "Could this get any worse," he muttered to himself, disdain and dread filling his thoughts to the rim. In the back of his mind, a voice answered _yes_. Basch quickly told it to shut up, as it was not helping his mood improve. "I'm going to gut myself if this doesn't end." For a moment, he actually considered it. But that would mean Austria would mourn. Sighing, he tried to get on with his day.

As the day progressed, Switzerland realized with a foreboding that the voice in the back of his head was correct. The pain steadily got worse. It got to point where he couldn't stand anymore.

Frustrated and full of rage, the Swiss crawled to the nearest phone and called Austria.

"I'm almost home," the Austrian assured one he picked up. "I miss you."

The response was a growl of, "That isn't why I called!" Basch sat back against the counter of the kitchen, trying to even out his breathing when he spotted red. _Blood_, he thought. _I left a trail of blood._ "Holy hell," he whispered. "Austria, get home _now_." With that, he pressed the 'end' button and through the phone across the room, effectively breaking it. He flinched from the sound. When had he started bleeding? What type of illness did he have? What was wrong in his country? Was this terminal? Could it be terminal? Was he going to die? Many questions followed those before Basch finally heard Roderich slam his car door closed and come through the door.

"Switz? Where are you," he called out. Switzerland could here him searching on the wrong side of the house.

Faintly, Basch answered, "In the kitchen." Thankfully, the Austrian heard it and made his way to said room. The Swiss couldn't see his lover, but he could hear when Austria found the blood. The scrambling of the man's feet could be heard before he burst into through the swinging door of the kitchen. A look of horror was on his face. "I'm fine," Switzerland said, though it was an obvious lie. He could feel the blood surrounding him – his own little pool – and smell it in the air, but he didn't dare look down. He was still infuriated and frustrated, but the emotions had dulled as the pain took over.

"Y-You are _not_ fine," Roderich claimed, "And don't make me think otherwise. Can you even stand?"

The blonde grunted out a no as his face scrunched up in concentration. Something was not right. "Help me out of my clothes – they're wet." Worry still plastered on his face, the Austrian complied, dragging his lover to the bathroom. He could get the blood stains out another time. Slowly, gently, Austria lowered Switzerland down into the bathtub, where the Swiss' face was still contorted with concentration. When the Austrian made to get a wet towel, Basch stopped him and took his hand, clinging to it. It hurt and it would most definitely bruise, but Austria only had worry on his mind and not time for anything else. Right before Roderich was going to suggest calling a doctor, the Swiss's hold slacked, and Switzerland's face returned to normal. His breath was still rough, and his mind was still trying to process just what in the world was that shrill cry was and where it was coming from. It was _not_ helping his headache.

"Are you alright," Austria asked, surprising the blonde.

"I… I suppose," he answered, "A bit peeved at the whining. Where is that coming from?" Their eyes searched the room, but the noise was louder in the tub. Cautiously, Basch moved his leg.

When the shock subsided, Roderich joked, "Well, he certainly is a new tax return."

* * *

><p>Thaddeus Kilian Edelstein could not be more humiliated. Of all the things he could have been for his second grade play, he was a tree. A <em>tree<em>. Sons of nations were _not_ _trees _for school plays. Honestly, he felt like a big failure, like he let his dads down. It was not his fault that he had stage fright and could not properly audition for a better role. On top of that, he forgot his violin in the classroom earlier that day – stupid show and tell, making him forget his favored instrument. At least he got to throw apples at the girl playing Dorothy.

Thaddeus stood proudly (or tried to) on stage as he awaited the cue to start throwing. Absentmindedly, he searched for his parents in the crowd. He breathed a sigh of relief as he did; they were standing in the back, watching intently. Austria was videotaping the scene on an old camera and Switzerland was trying to keep his cool for the sake of the unmannerly child sitting in front of him. Thaddeus smiled for them; they smiled back while the cue was simultaneously given. Without missing a beat, he and the trees around him started throwing apples, purposely missing the girl. However, on apple sailed pass the targets and hit the stereo system that was supposed to play the music. _The play is ruined,_ Thaddeus thought sullenly. _And I liked the music so much. It feels like hours of learning the sheets gone to waste._ The scene ended and the trees made their exit.

Teachers were swarming the stereo system, trying to figure out what to do. On stage, the play continued. One teacher was saying, "Without the background music, the singers won't have their notes." The others agreed.

"Well," Thaddeus's teacher said, "I know all the songs on piano. If we bring it out, I could play." Thaddeus found himself liking that idea.

The principal did, too. "But," he said, "It will sound a bit lame, however, seeing as it is our only choice, that will do. Unless, one of you know an instrument and can play."

Thaddeus bit his lip. His heart was fluttering and there were butterflies in his stomach, but, nonetheless, he spoke up. "Miss M? May I get my violin out of your classroom? I wish to play with you." The surrounding adults looked down at the child in shock. "I know every song. May I play with you?" The adults looked at each other, then back at him.

After a moment, Ms. M told him to get out of the tree costume. While he did so, she retrieved the violin just in time for the next song.

Needless to say, the young violinist wowed the crowd. Austria and Switzerland had never been that proud of their son before – and they saw their money going to violin lessons was not going to waste.

"Good job, Thaddeus."

**A/N: Go ahead. Kill me for being late. On another note, dontcha just love the Wizard of Oz? :)**


	18. Episode 18: TurGree

I Didn't Know I was Pregnant: TurGree

**How can a man not know he was pregnant? With no weight gain, no cravings, and no symptoms. This is a true story of a man going into labor without knowing he was ever pregnant.**

Ευδοξία Aysel Adnan hated not knowing if she was a country or not when she was a little girl. Now that she was a teenager, she knew that, no, there was no existence of a new country that anybody could locate. Yet, Ευδοξία believed there was still hope. Maybe it was on some little island in the ocean no one had seen. Or possibly it was underground. A micronation no one can find traces of? Every guess was made with more and more uncertainty. "Am I even a something at all," she mumbled to herself. "I was born from two men…." To get her mind of these ramblings, she decided to take a walk.

Not that it helped much. After flirting with a few guys and girls, she felt tired – a trait inherited from her 'mother'. Sighing, Ευδοξία sat down beneath a large maple tree, not really intending to fall asleep, but to just rest. And she fell asleep, against her will. It was nice nap, a well needed nap, with a very interesting dream…

_Turkey and Greece were aboard a plane heading towards Berlin. Egypt was in the seat in front of them, Anubis sitting quietly next to him. How Egypt got the flight attendants to allow the dog to not be in the cargo amazed them all. No passengers were amused when they saw the dog looking out the window and acting very excited. In fact, some were afraid of Anubis – a fact that shocked Gupta, not that he said anything about it._

"_Nice day out," Turkey commented awkwardly, having gotten sick of the silence._

_Greece yawned and managed to get out, "Yeah." Egypt just nodded his head in affirmative. The silence returned._

_Sadik sighed and tried to entertain himself – his boyfriend was already taking a nap and he did not feel like waking the Greek up. He deserved some rest, what with how horrible he had been feeling the past week. So, the Turk went through his carry on and picked out the novel he was currently reading._

_By the time the flight was over, Turkey had finished his book. _Well, that was certainly short_, he thought to himself. Sighing, he nudged Greece awake, telling him that they had arrived. "Hmm," the Greek mumbled under his breath. "Are we in Berlin?" Turkey nodded an affirmative. "'Kay."_

_The three got off the plane and started for the luggage shoot. When their things dropped down, they continued on their way (with people giving Anubis odd looks). After what seemed for forever, the Mediterranean countries made it to their hotel rooms… where Greece just collapsed._

"_Greece," Turkey exclaimed. A grunt of pain was the response. "Greece! Are you okay?"_

"_Not. One. Bit," the Greek got through his closed teeth, trying to keep the pain in so the Turk would not worry. The pain was incredible. It was ten times worth than any past wounds and, what was the worse part, he did not know what caused it. He knew, though, it started in his stomach regions and went on to spread out through his whole body, making it ache and just feel overall horrendous. So, instead, he took deep breaths and released them._

_Turkey, meanwhile, was panicking. He was contemplating whether he should call Egypt to help or to call a doctor. _What do I do? What the hell should I do? _He bit his lip, contemplating. _Maybe Egypt? The doctor? Egypt and the doctor? Or Japan? Japan and Egypt? Japan and the doctor? All three? None? Damnit! _Sadik paused a moment to check on Heracles, still on the ground, to see how he was going before making up his mind. _The closest person – Egypt. _With that, he rushed out of the room and across the hall._

_Through his breathing, Greece had decided to let nature take its course. Because of this, his pants had become extremely tight, and yet it was difficult to get them off without Turkey's help. Hurriedly, he made due. Greece thought it best to not see what was the big trouble, instead he opted to continue whatever._

_At this moment, Turkey dragged Egypt into the room where they both stopped short, taken off guard. "Holy crap," Sadik whispered._

"_That's how I feel," the Greek half-heartily joked, wishing to die. A tremor of pain ran up his spine and he cried out in pain. "Kill me now, _please_." No one killed him, of course, but to his relief (and theirs) the pain stopped minutes after._

_When this happened, a shrill cry broke through the air._

_The hell was that,_ Ευδοξία thought. _That was disturbing – pure randomness. _Never again was she going to fall asleep under a tree. With that thought in mind, she headed home.

"Where did you go," Turkey immediately asked as his daughter stepped through the front door.

Ευδοξία just shrugged and said, "I fell asleep under a tree and had a crack dream."

**A/N: Ευδοξία is pronounced "Edoxia."**


	19. Episode 19: HongIce

I Didn't Know I was Pregnant: HongIce

**How can a man not know he was pregnant? With no weight gain, no cravings, and no symptoms. This is a true story of a man going into labor without knowing he was ever pregnant.**

Once upon a time, there was a nice country named Iceland who was had been courting another country called Hong Kong. From this courting came infatuation, from infatuation came the crushes, and from the crushes came love. From love came… you know, let us not get into the details. To fill in the space, from love came a sex education class. Beyond that point, it becomes a mesh of things.

Iceland was getting ready for a date with Hong Kong one day when his big brother Norway walked into the room. "Ice, can I ask for a fav- what are you doing?" Iceland glanced over his shoulder to see a suspicious… not really a look; it was more like an aura emanating from Norway.

"I'm getting ready for my date," Iceland said honestly, continuing to straighten out his bow. He tugged at the string a bit, watching his reflection in his mirror. He rather liked this mirror; it showed all of his nice qualities, no matter how terrible he looked.

Norway's eye shot up. "Date," he demanded, "What date?"

Iceland cringed and wished he could take back his mistake. No one knew of his relationship with Hong Kong. _Damnit, _he thought, _I'm in for it._ "Uh… nothing?" The country bit his lip, desperately hoping his lame cover up would do. Naturally, it did not.

The elder licked his lips in frustration. "Nothing," he repeated. "You are trying to pass this off as _nothing_?"

"Yes, Norway." Iceland's voice had raised an octave in just one syllable from nervousness.

Though Norway's face was as blank as ever, you could still tell he was horrendously infuriated. "Damnit, Ice! Drop what you're going because you are _not_ _going_. Forget whoever this person is – I don't care if they are a major nation or if they could help economically. They are not good enough for you." He paused, then added, "And call me brother-dear."

Iceland's eyes widened at the request. This was so not happening. Nor could _not_, absolutely _could not_ do this. Iceland was grown up! A man! He could take care of himself and not have the Norwegian watch him breathe for fun. Norway couldn't tell him what to wear or how to cook or who to date. He was not five any longer. So… "No," Iceland declared. "You have no jurisdiction over me."

Just then, Denmark popped into the room. "Hey," he greeted, "I heard yelling, so… did I come at a bad time?" The two biological brothers stared him down. "I'll just, um, I'll just go… now… so, uh, bye." The Danish man got out of there as fast as he could.

Norway whipped his head back to his brother and decreed with finality, "You are confined to this room, young man, and you will not leave until your foolish hopes, dreams, and wants are abolished." With that, the Norwegian back out of the room, shut the door, and locked it… taking the key with him.

Iceland scrambled forward in vain to open the door. He jingled the knob but to no avail. "Y-You're ruining my life," he shrieked at the door, trying hold back tears. _It's not fair,_ he thought, _it's not fair._

It must have been hours, yes, hours until the boy heard a tinkling at his window. Getting out of his bed, Iceland walked over to the window at looked out. There, seven floors below, throwing rocks at the window, was Hong Kong. Instantly, the Icelandic boy's face lit up with excitement as he tried to crack the window open quietly – he did not wish to disturb the sleeping Norway and Denmark a room over. That would be Hell. When Hong Kong noticed he was having difficulty with the task, he motioned for the country to move out of the way. Confused but obedient, he did as sort of told. Barely seconds later, a big boulder was catapulted into the room, shattering the glass window. How on Earth the Chinese country was able to pick it up, nonetheless _throw _it high up, was beyond Iceland. In the other room, he could hear Norway and Denmark dazedly trying to figure out what the noise was and, knowing how much time he had, Iceland jumped out of the window without a second thought.

Hong Kong caught him, stumbling a bit at the momentum and weight. He plopped his boyfriend on the ground and gave him a crooked smile. "Your clothes are totally wrinkled," he said. Iceland rolled his eyes – _of course_ he noticed the quality of the clothes. Why would he not? It was so like Hong Kong. "But you still look nice." His face went back to being poker. "Ready for, like, the best night of your life?"

"Any reason I shouldn't?"

* * *

><p>The two were situated on a plaid blanket, innocently placed on a hill that had a great view of a random fireworks show that would air that night. If Iceland had been on time to showing up at the Asian country's house earlier that night, they would have gone out to dinner, but, seeing as Norway was being biased, all they could do now was to wait for the fireworks to appear. It was sort of chilly outside and Hong Kong made a big show of wrapping Iceland up in his arms to keep his date warm. Needless to say, the Icelandic boy was blushing.<p>

Soon, however, the blush replaced itself with awe as the fireworks started. Reds, blues, golds, and whatever other colors there were lit up the night sky like it was day. The sounds were deafening, sure, but neither cared. They were too interested in the show. A green burst formed into a smiley-face while a pink transformed into a heart. A whistle-work shot up into the sky and faded, leaving a crackling noise behind. A big pop resulted in a white and gold rainfall while a smaller blue and red rupture was silent. Colors… so many colors... It ended too soon according to Iceland. Loud pops, one right after the other, filled his ears. Bursts of light lit up the world. Crackles of fading fireworks were barely heard as more fireworks were shot up. Finally, in an attempt to make the awesome even more awesome, the last firework popped the loudest, flew up the highest, and burst the biggest, giving off a manifold of colors. People, who were watching from different places, stood up and cheered, clapped, and rejoiced for the show. Unable to help themselves, the nations did the same. Hong Kong remarked that it was almost as good as a show that he could put on (Iceland chuckled at the comment).

As they were heading to Hong Kong's house to have s- some fun, Iceland got a sharp pain in his stomach. He flinched, his body noting that he had never felt anything like that before. And yet he ignored the warning signals going off in his head. This continued for most of the ride, but, a couple of blocks away from their destination, Iceland demanded his boyfriend pull over. Hong Kong, master of the poker face, blinked but obeyed. Coincidentally, the Asian nation had pulled into a deserted gas station which had most likely closed hours before.

When Hong Kong cut the engine, he glanced over at his boyfriend… and did a double-take. How had he not noticed Iceland's obvious pain? He was hunched over in his seat, clutching his stomach, wishing he had Mr. Puffin because he wanted something to… squeeze to death? That did not sound like the Iceland he knew and loved. "Iceland," he started out, his voice full of caution, "is everything all right? What's wrong?"

"I'm dying, that's what's wrong!" was the snappish reply.

Hong Kong bit his lip and made a decision – probably not the _best_ decision he had ever made, but he believed it would help.

Ten minutes later Norway and Denmark's sleepy ass arrived and Iceland had not gotten any better. Denmark snoozed while Norway and Hong Kong discussed the problem, both supporting blank faces, and Iceland looked more and more hurt by the millisecond.

About an hour and half later, they discovered what exactly the problem was.

* * *

><p>Lilja Qiu Chun rolled around in her princess-themed bed, waiting to fall asleep. Sadly, Lilja was not a patient five year old. She sighed, got out of the warm blankets that her bed generously offered, and pattered down the hall to her parent's room. She knocked precisely three times, as was habit, and entered. "Lilja," Iceland gasped in surprise, "What are you doing up?" He got out of his bed and walked over to her; Hong Kong looked up from his video game (something about Jackie Chan) with a questioning gaze.<p>

"I can't thleep," she answered with a shrug. "Can ya weed me a bed time thtowy?"

Iceland smiled kindly and led her back to her princess-themed room. He tucked her into the bed and went to pick a book out of extensive collection of fairy tales, myths, and fables. Finally, he decided on _Maid Maleen_. Lilja made room so Iceland could sit on the edge of the bed. Smiling a bit to himself, he opened to the first page. "There once was a princess betrothed to a prince – they called her Maid Maleen. She was the most beautiful maiden there was," he started. "But her father, the King, decided this prince was not a suitable husband. However, Maid Maleen proclaimed, 'He is the only one I love, the only one I want. No matter how long we part, I shall love him.' With this said, the King ordered a big, sturdy tower to be built. 'Maid Maleen, my dearest daughter, you will stay here in this tower, where light never comes and goes, for seven years until your love breaks,' was the King's response. Food and water were taken into the tower, enough for seven long years. Fortunately or not, Maid Maleen's closest lady-in-waiting was allowed to stay in the tower with the princess. When the seven years were about to end and the food supply was getting short, Maid Maleen started to think her father had forgotten about her in the tower. With the help of the lady, Maid Maleen started to cut away at the bricks with a sharp knife. In three days, one brick was gone, then a second, third, and so on and so forth." Iceland paused to look over a Lilja who, instead of falling asleep, was listening attentively. "When they had enough bricks gone to go out, they did so. The outside world was foreign, however, for the kingdom was gone – the enemy had destroyed it. The two journeyed for many days until the came to kingdom with a castle that would hire them and give them food and shelter. It was the very same castle that housed Maid Maleen's beloved. The prince, though, had been engaged to another princess – this one was ugly and wicked. The princess, on arrivel to the kingdom, locked herself in her newly acquired chambers and refused to leave. Maid Maleen brought her meals every day. When the day came to the wedding day, the princess ordered Maid Maleen to walk to the church for her, for she could not bear to be laughed at in public. Maid Maleen refused before the princess threatened for her life to be taken. So," Iceland paused yet again to check on his daughter. It _seemed _like she was drifting. "Maid Maleen put on the fancy dress and jewels," he continued, "and walked with the prince. They got to a nettle plant and she remarked: 'Nettle-plant, oh little nettle-plant. I remember when I ate you.' The prince looked at her questioningly but said nothing. They got to the bridge and Maid Maleen said, 'Bridge, please to not break, I am not the true bride.' This time, the prince asked, 'What did you say?' 'Nothing,' was the answer, 'I was merely thinking of Maid Maleen.' They continued on until the two got to the church door. 'Church door, please do not break, I am not the true bride.' 'What did you say?' 'Nothing, I am merely thinking of Maid Maleen.' The prince still did not understand but he clasped a gold chain around her neck anyways." Iceland stopped another time only to see Lilja fast asleep. He sighed in content. "Nonetheless, they lived happily ever after," he finished.

And they lived happily ever after.

**A/N: Longest chapter yet. :) Qiu - Chiiyou... if that makes sense for pronunciation. You know, Maid Maleen is a pretty cool fairy tale. But I like the horror story ending better than the happliy-ever-after one. :) Line Up: GiriPan, UKUS, PruAus, Romerica, Romaria, Spermany, FinSu. Part 2 out of 4 = done. :P**


	20. Episode 20: GiriPan

I Didn't Know I was Pregnant: GiriPan

**How can a man not know he was pregnant? With no weight gain, no cravings, and no symptoms. This is a true story of a man going into labor without knowing he was ever pregnant.**

_Let us step back in time. We are not going far, but we are going back. The exact number of years: eighty. Yes, we are going to the year 1932. Have fun on this trip and, no, this is _not_ "The Twilight Zone"._

It was June third, 1932, and Japan was super excited. Not only was the new movie "_I Was Born, But…_" coming out, but Greece, his uber hot fiancée, was here to see it with him! Could this get any better? "No," he mumbled to himself, "This is perfectry wonderfur." He smiled to himself for nothing could get better. If only the wedding date would come sooner….

Greece yawned. "When does that movie start," he asked, his words a bit slurred due to sleep.

"In an hour." Greece nodded a bit to say he acknowledged the reply then promptly fell back asleep. Japan chuckled as a random stray cat wandered into the house and onto Heracles' lap.

In an hour, the movie started and Kiku was uncharacteristically bouncing in his seat. "Someone is excited," Greece noted.

Japan stopped in surprise – he hadn't even realized what he was doing! "Ah! _Sumimasen_," he said quickly, "I am just keyed up a rot. I have been waiting for this."

Heracles smiled at this. "You don't have to excuse yourself – I understand. I was thrilled when Venizelos relinquished power… what, one week ago? No one blames you if you're anxious." Japan blushed, thinking maybe he _did_ say 'sorry' way too often. When he was about to say 'thank you', however, the screen burst with life.

Kiku had to read all the words to Heracles because he still had yet to learn fluent Japanese. It was a silent film about the Yoshi family who had just moved to the Tokyo suburbs. The two boys of the family (Keiji and Ryoichi) were supposed to go to school but, due to bullying, played truant. Their teacher called their father and they were forced to attend school. One of the neighborhood kids was the son of Keiji and Ryoichi's father's boss. They go to the kid's home and he shows the brothers videos of their father making a fool of himself. Humiliated, they go home and go on a hunger strike because they did not like the answer their father gave them when they asked why he groveled at his boss's feet. The father answered that he was of lower class and his boss was a higher power. The parents wish for a better future for their children. The next day, the children give up the hunger strike for sweet cake and declare they will both be generals for the military. They see their father's boss in a car and urge their father to go talk to him. As their father gets a convenient ride to work, the brothers walk with the boss's son to school. With that, the screen faded to black.

Japan stood up and clapped – it was as great as people were making it out to be. Greece joined him, a bit surprised that he had stayed up for the entire thing – it was one hundred minutes long! But yet, it was not boring. Not when you had Kiku's voice to listen to the whole time.

The two walked to the local nation's house, discussing the movie with happiness. When they arrived at their destination, Heracles yawned, making both of them aware on just how late it was. Contently, the two went to sleep at each other's sides, ready for an uneventful rest.

* * *

><p>Doctor Universally Really Different loved their job but hated their name. It was annoying as hell, long to say, got funny looks, and the initials were just too… ugh! Doctor U.R. Different – who in the world wanted a doctor with a name like that? Who wanted to date someone who had a name like that? Dr. Different was pretty sure that they would die alone – loved by their family, sure, but <em>alone<em>. So very alone while listening to tintinnabulation because that was what they liked. What a lonely, lame, boring, abandoning death.

At least their job was awesome. Who knew that there were personifications of the countries? That was just beyond believable and when they had first told them that… well Dr. D just did not believe it at all. And it had been a shady job too. The doctor just got out of school, officially a doctor, and these men in black strode up to them and inquired, "How would you like a job?" It took them a while to comprehend the question, but they took the job. That was when the hoopla began. Through all that, it was a really cool job. Who knew the personifications' anatomy would be alarmingly the same and different? This was a scientific breakthrough that could not, under any circumstances, be released to the rest of the world.

Because Universally was concentrated on their thoughts, they jumped ten feet into the air when the phone rang. Breathing a sigh of relief when they realized that it was just the phone, they picked it up and greeted, "Doctor Different speaking, how may I help you?"

"Something is wrong with Japan," came the immediate response. It was Greece – Dr. Different could recognize that much. As if to prove the point, a cry of pain from said nation could be heard in the background.

Instantly, Universally sprang into action. "I'll be there as soon as I can," they said.

'Soon as I can' can be translated as 'in a few hours because of transport that claimed to be fast was not advanced to the point where I could be there within minutes, sorry.' So, because of this translation, the doctor was at the scene a quarter of a day later where an unlikely scenario was spread out before them.

Greece was kneeled down holding a wailing child with an umbilical cord still connected to the placenta and a panting Japan sitting on the floor, vital regions displayed for the whole world to see. Doctor Different just stood there for a minute or two, feeling like the world had slowed down in motion. Yet, they knew they had to do something, so they ordered, "Give the child to Japan and go get scissors, the cord needs to cut." Greece plopped the babe in his fiancée's arms. "Quickly," the doctor added, kneeling down right where the Greek had been.

* * *

><p>Mitsuo Chrysippus Karpusi always knew America was a good guy. What he didn't know was that the butthead also referred to himself as the hero. He was <em>so<em> not a hero – Mitsuo was! Mitsuo was the hero! Not the idiot America. And today, they were going to have a face-off just to prove who was the more hero hero-y hero-ly heroically hero-ish heroic hero ever.

Mitsuo _so_ was more hero than Alfred. Like, _please_, girl, that American stood, like, _no_ chance whatsoever. Oh, yeah, and Poland – the totally _greatest_ damsel in distress – was going to judge.

"'Kay," Poland started, "First order of business is, like, who can say 'I'm the hero' in the most totally awesome voice ever. America – start!"

"Ahem," America started, then: "**I'M THE HEROOOOOOOOOOOO!**" He gave a star smile afterwards.

"Mitsuo – go!"

Mitsuo smiled and claimed, "_**I'm **__**the hero.**_"

"Psh, please," America snorted. "That _sucked_, dude."

"Shaddup or I'll castrate you, America," Poland threatened. "Next is the totally awesome test of, like, seeing how many people you can get to believe that you are the hero. You, like, each get one vote from me to, like, start. So go!" The two set off in finding people to get to believe that they were a hero. America, in the end, got five hundred fifty five billion (hint: he lied about votes), while Mitsuo got fifty three from the fifty two civilians he got the courage to go up and ask. "Mitsuo wins this round." Alfred frowned while the younger smirked in childish arrogance. "'Kay, so next is totally awesome. Go, like, find someone to be a hero for."

Mitsuo set off to go look as America bolted off, saying something like 'I'm always a hero.'

Mitsuo walked for about five blocks until he saw a girl, around his age, crying. Bravely, he walked up to her and asked, "What's the matter?"

She looked up at him, tears streaking down his face, and answered, "I can't find my mother." Mitsuo looked at her, confused. "I was waiting for her here and she never came back. I miss my mother."

Mitsuo smiled at her and, trying to sound like a hero, said, "I'll wait with you."

An hour went by… two hours… three… four… the sun set and there was still no sight of the little girl's mother. The children's stomachs were starting to complain of the lack of food. "She'll come back," Mitsuo reassured for the umpteenth time, but he was starting to doubt. If the mother never came back, it would be a failed mission; the girl would be without a home – being more hero than Alfred be damned. This girl needed a home more than Mitsuo needed the accomplishment of being more hero than the hero himself.

Meanwhile, America and Poland were worrying their asses off. Poland had sent out the order four hours ago – _four_! The American had come back within the hour, but Mitsuo hadn't. He was six! _Six!_ Who knows what could've happened to him?

"Oh em gee," Feliks vented, "his parents are gonna, like, _kill_ me!"

"And me," America added. "I mean, Japan and I are cool and stuff, but I lost his child! … They're going to kill us!"

"Why would we do that," a voice asked from behind the blonde nations. They whipped around to see Japan and Greece standing there. "We came to get Mitsuo. We trust that you two are done with doing whatever?"

"Uh…"

It was getting cold and Mitsuo and the girl did not really care for the cold. When the boy noticed his damsel in distress was shivering, he took of his coat and draped it over the fragile-looking shoulders. "B-But," she protested, "You'll be cold."

"Lady's first," he countered.

That was when Mitsuo heard the shouts and yells all calling for him. He instantly stood up and looked around. As he did so, Greece saw his son looking around. "He's over there," the nation called to the others, running for his son. "Don't scare us like that, Mitsuo!"

"Scare," the boy asked innocently. "I was just being a hero." The girl nodded her head in affirmative.

Poland, America, and Japan caught up to see the scene. "Mitsuo is more hero," Poland announced.

The boy could not believe it. He was more hero hero-y hero-ly heroically hero-ish heroic hero than America? Cool!

"Aww," America cried, "This game was fixed!"

**A/N: Part 3 out of 4 and I don't think I can post the last part until Tuesday or something, sorry. I'll try. Oh! And Mitsuo means "shining hero" and Chrysippus is one of the Greek mythilogical heroes. So, yeah... **


	21. Episode 21: UKUS

I Didn't Know I was Pregnant: UKUS

**How can a man not know he was pregnant? With no cravings, no weight gain, and no symptoms. This is a true story of a man going into labor with not even knowing he was pregnant.**

_Let us step back in time, we are not going farm but we are going back. The exact number of year: eighty. Yes, we are going to the year 1932. Have fun on this trip and, no, this in _not _"The Twilight Zone."_

Doctor Different really did not know what to think in this predicament. It was horribly a weird situation, not one you typically go upon, yet here it was, presenting itself. "Dear Lord in mighty Heaven," the doctor started, "What a miracle you have given, a miracle that defies all scientific logic but still thank you for. Bless these two idio- young men, they'll need it."

And those two young men just continued to sit in a dazed stupor like the idiots they wer- like any normal person would be. One, the blue-eyed guy with the sunny-blonde hair, still looked disgruntled from the earlier events and a bit hurt – well, no surprise there. The other, a green-eyed, dusty-haired fellow, was biting his lip, one arm around his partner, the other supporting a bundle of blankets that was continuously fighting for attention and undoubtedly food.

It had been, for the most part, silent since Universally's prayer, until the green-eyed man inquired in an English accent, "A-Any tips, doctor, for this?" His face had hints of hope in it.

Doctor different thought about this. Then he answered, "Plenty of rest for America, food for the girl, and I suggest reading books on parenting." Doctor Different regarded the Anglo-American couple before adding, "Congrats, men, you have a healthy baby girl to take care of."

As if on cue, the bundle in England's arms released a cry – she had gotten impatient and down-right _demanded _food.

"See ya," the doctor said, leaving the new family to their devices.

* * *

><p>Earlier That Day…<p>

It was a regular lazy day. America was lounging on the sofa looking bored while England sat next to him, sipping tea and reading a book. Letting the boredom get the better of him, America asked, "What are you reading?"

"_Tarzan, the Ape Man_," was the reply.

"Cool." Silence – immediate silence. "What's it about?"

"An ape man." More silence.

America sighed. "What does the ape man do?"

England sighed and doggy-leafed the page, setting down next to him. "Well, these English explores decide to go to Africa to study apes and the female – surprise, surprise – gets kidnapped by Tarzan, the human raised by apes. And that, dear Alfred, is where you cut my reading off."

"Cool, so Tarzan's like a superhero?" America looked hopeful for he possibly had a new hero to fawn about.

"No, you daft fool! He kidnapped the girl! He could do countless things to her, including torture, rape, and murder. How, pray tell me, is he a superhero?" England frowned at his partner – honestly, what went through his head?

"Oh," the sunny-blonde said lamely, his face falling in despair. "That's not cool. I hoped he was going to be a hero. He has a cool name like one, right? Tarzan. TAR-zan. Tar-ZAN. Taaaarzan. Tarzaaaaan. Tarzy! Zany! Tarzan. Ta-" America was interrupted by a smack upside his head. "Ow! Arthur, that is so not cool! In fact, it hurts."

"Belt up, twit, and let me read." Arthur opened the book back up and continued reading.

_Damnit,_ Alfred thought. _Now I'm bored again._ He squirmed in discomfort, hating the quiet with his whole, pure heart. This was totally not productive. In any way, shape, or form. _But what can I do to quench my boredom? It'll just seep its way back into my cranium. _America sighed again, rubbing the stinging spot on his head from England's smack. _Crap, that really hurt. _And then, for some reason, the pain traveled downwards before it rested on his stomach. _That's weird. Really wei- OW! Owowowowow, that hurts! The hell? _America clutched his stomach, trying to make it the opposite of obvious that he was in pain. The pain subsided for a bit before it came back… and it was _worse._

After about an hour of more silence and an increasing pain, America could simply not hold it in any longer. The next attack on his stomach sent him clutching his stomach for dear life, his vocal cords emitting a low groan and a swear under his breath. _How is the pain increasing? Shouldn't it be dying a nasty death?_

Arthur looked up from his book to stare at America in crystal-clear pain. "Alfred… love, are you okay?" It was polite to ask but really unnecessary. Arthur already knew what the answer was going to be.

"No," the American wheezed out, noting that not only was the hurt getting worse, but more frequent. "It hurts like a re-EAL bitch." He ground his teeth together.

"I-I'll call a doctor, okay," Arthur assured. "I'll do that and I'll be right back."

"Hurry," America shouted.

* * *

><p>The girl ran down the stone-etched path to her fathers, shouting, "Daddy! Father! I wanna be an actor like Shirley Temple!" She made an abrupt stop, standing in front of them with a world-class smile on her face.<p>

"Okay, Shirley, anything you want," America consented. The girl beamed.

England, however, swatted his partner's arm. "Don't say that! Think of this at a realistic viewpoint. It's next to improbable!" His eyebrows scrunched into a scowl. Then he turned to his daughter and his face warmed up, yet he still said, "I'm sorry, Shirley, but no."

Shirley Fay Kirkland pouted and went onto a rant about how England would be the coolest Father just like Daddy America was if he allowed her to be an actor – and not the sucky kind, the cool Shirley Temple and Fay Compton – that would be the greatest thing ever. For what other job was he expecting her to do? Be a singer? No, no, that was just stupid.

The green-eyed chap sighed. "Shirley, the answer is still no."

"B-But!"

"No."

**A/N: "Season One" end. ;) Haha, sorry making you guys wait, like, 90 days... Welp, "Season Two" starts next week... hopefully... so, yeah, see ya guys next week for chappy 22. BTW, Shirley after the awesome drin-_actress _Shirley Temple and Fay after Fay Campton. If you guys didn't get that... Bye.**


	22. Episode 22: PruAus

I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant: PruAus

**How can a man not know he was pregnant? With no weight gain, no cravings, and no symptoms. This is a true story of a man going into labor without knowing he was ever pregnant.**

Austria was having an okay day, he supposed. Apart from the odd aches in his stomach (dear Lord he hoped it wasn't stomach flu), it was a pretty nice day. The sun was setting ever so prettily and he had relaxed in his home all afternoon, work free. On top of that, he had a date with Prussia tonight. To say that would not be exciting was lying; everything was exciting when it came to the over hyper, over eager Prussian. First, however, he had to drop Hungary off at Belgium's house. They had planned a "Yaoi Party" with Japan and Taiwan that night, but Hungary's car had broken down so she had called Austria to give her a ride. He had agreed so long as she paid for the gas and did not explain "yaoi" to him. How he had ever lived through marriage with her, he did not know.

He pulled up to Belgium's driveway, and looked over to Hungary when he stopped. "We're here," Austria announced as if she couldn't see on her own. "I expect you to give me my gas money within a week."

Hungary rolled her eyes. "Yes, dear. Of course. Our years of friendship mean nothing compared to money." Austria was not amused. She smiled at his scowl. "Within a week, got it. Thanks, Austria!" And with that, she got out of his car, closing the door behind her.

"Good bye, Hungary." _Now to go get Prussia_, he thought as he sped off in the direction he had come from. They had been planning their date all week, and Austria knew just where he wanted to go. It wasn't cheap – nothing for Austria was ever cheap (except his patched up underwear). After a nice dinner at a fancy restaurant, they could go back to either house and have some fun because, well, you know, it's _fun_. Yes, such a perfect date he had in mind and he had every intention of making it go off without a hitch. Even if those damn pains continued to come.

Honking on the car horn as soon as he pulled into Prussia's (it was really Germany's, but that was hardly important) driveway and waited a bit impatiently for said nation to show up. A moment later, he did. The pale man came running out the house and got into the Austrian's car so fast that Austria was certain light traveled like molasses for Prussia. "Hey," he greeted, flashing Austria a pretty smile.

"Hello, Prussia," the Austrian replied, returning the smile with a slight twitch of his own lips. "How was your day?"

The smile turned into a smirk. "Awesome as usual." Austria rolled his eyes.

When it was silent for a moment, Austria said, "My day was fine, thanks for asking, except fo-" A sharp pain spread through Austria's body, one that hurt far worse than the others. He slowly hissed at the feeling and grit his teeth. Once it had passed, he looked over at Prussia, who appeared worried. "I'm fine," Austria sighed. "Those weird pains were the bad parts of my day, but they don't last long." And just as he finished his sentence, another pain came.

"Pull over, Austria," Prussia instructed. "You are not 'fine.'" Gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles were white, he did just that. After accomplishing his task, Austria breathed in heavily, held his breath for three seconds, and then released it in an effort to distract his attention from the pain to his breathing.

Austria was not entirely sure what happened after that. There was a lot of pain, a fainting Prussian, screaming at said pale man "_Das bedeutet nicht helfen!_", and finally a shrill cry echoing around the car.

* * *

><p>"Mozart," Prussia called. "Mozart, where are you? Come out, come out wherever you are, Mozart!" Prussia smirked to himself; the kid couldn't hide forever and he knew just the way to pry him out of his mysterious lair. Which neither he nor Austria knew the location of – it was just somewhere in the house. But no matter, <em>Mozart<em> would show himself soon enough. He always did when he was called. "Mozart!"

A few more callings and Prussia finally got a response. "Stop calling me that!" And there the boy appeared with a cape billowing out behind him, disgruntled and unhappy looking. "My name is Wolfgang! _Wolf-gang_. I _hate_ it when you guys call me that. What's the point in giving me an awesome name like _Wolfgang_ if you never call me that? And Mozart wasn't even cool!" Wolfgang crossed his arms over his chest and pouted.

Prussia wanted to just fawn over him and compliment how cute he looked when he pouted and how much he loved those purple eyes flashing ever so angrily and how much he adored the messy mop of platinum blond hair upon that little head of his. But that would ruin his badass rep so he said instead, "Your father wants to know if you took his sheet music."

Wolfgang straightened up immediately. "Maybe I did, maybe I didn't," he responded indignantly. "But no matter. I'm done reviewing it and I've made the necessary corrections. He may have my revised version, but he may not have the garbage he had originally composed back." With that, he took a fist full of cape in his hands and swung it as he turned around, presumably to his lair to fetch the revised music.

Blink. Blink blink. The Prussian stared at the spot where his son had just been, his mind slowly understanding the sass he had just heard. Smirking, he called, "Thanks, Mozart!"

"_That's not my name!_"

**A/N: If you're a douchebag and you know it clap your hands :) Be assured I clapped. Hi guys, long time no see. The translation for the German courtesy of Google Translate is "That does not help." The kid's full name is Wolfgang Amadeus Beilschmidt. When I had originally named him, I hadn't realized I named him after Mozart (Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, if you didn't know). And when I did, I had to make the joke. I had to.**

**Here is my apology. I am sorry. I don't know what else to say other than what I have done is unforgivable and you all have the right to hate me. I will take this hate in stride. But this is the start of Season Two and would you all stay with this it'd mean a lot to me. I love you guys, and I hope you can love me with all of my douche-canoe-ness. And my lame Phantom of the Opera allusion with the lair and the cape and musical genius thingy. Because I will put up with that for you guys.**

**Also, I have a question. How many of you guys actually read all of the chapters? Like, I go and look at the views for each chapter sometimes and they are just up and down and up and up and down and down. So I was wondering, am I the only one who is forced to read these things word for word?**


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